


Blockheads (Building a home with you)

by bitter_leaf



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Australia, Captain Niall Horan, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Interior Decorating, M/M, Melbourne, Mutual Pining, Reality TV, Renovating, Sharing a Bed, The Block Australia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 06:37:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 37,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20634746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitter_leaf/pseuds/bitter_leaf
Summary: “Niall,” Louis groaned down the phone line, exasperated. “It’s only been four hours and he’s already doing my head in. He keeps interrupting to ask stupid questions during the safety briefings, he can’t walk past a camera without doing this ridiculous hair flick, and I swear he spent ten minutes out of our insane schedule trying to get himself a pair of the pink work boots the girls have. A producer had to apologise and tell him they hadn’t thought to order them in a size 12!”--Louis is a no-nonsense contractor with a score to settle. Harry is an idealistic interior designer who just wants the world to be beautiful. When they decide to go on The Block, a reality TV show about renovating, they’re not prepared for what else they might build together…





	Blockheads (Building a home with you)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [Nicola (missytearex)](https://missytearex.tumblr.com) for being so sweet and for beta’ing for a total random, and [Dee (Jacaranda-Bloom)](https://jacaranda-bloom.tumblr.com) for cheering me on and understanding all my ridiculous references.
> 
> This fic was inspired by Australian reality TV show The Block because as if a building site isn't the best setting for a romance. I'd say sorry in advance for all the ridiculous slang but... 'Straya, mate *shrugs*.

blockhead

/ˈblɒkhɛd/  
noun - INFORMAL

a very stupid person

“_Niall,_” Louis groaned down the phone line, exasperated. “It’s only been four hours and he’s already doing my head in. He keeps interrupting to ask stupid questions during the safety briefings, and he can’t walk past a camera without doing this ridiculous hair flick, and honest to god we’re not even properly filming yet, and I swear he spent ten minutes out of our already _insane_ schedule trying to get himself a pair of the pink work boots the girls have. A producer had to _apologise_ and tell him they hadn’t thought to order them in a size 12!” He exhaled forcefully as if he’d been holding it all in.

“Louis, mate, I promise you, he’ll calm down. I wouldn’t have suggested him if I thought he was going to make your life hell. Give him a few days to get used to all the showbiz and excitement and bullshit and he’ll knuckle down. You two are going to be killer. And lord knows you have zero style to speak of. I’ve seen your bedroom, you’re not going to win rooms with Kmart bedspreads and a range of hi-vis on the floor masquerading as a rug. It’s a bloody miracle you ever get laid at all. Stick with him, he’s a good dude.”

When Louis had been sacked from his job as a project manager for a small building firm due to a restructure, he’d been sanguine about it. At twenty-seven, after almost a decade in the industry, he’d been itching to start out on his own. He imagined perhaps building a small team from the ground up, taking on an apprentice or two and devoting himself to projects he was actually passionate about. When he was feeling particularly ambitious and silly, he pictured his beloved Holden Colorado with ‘Tomlinson Projects’ emblazoned on the side. His only issue was cashflow.

It was a few pints in, unsurprisingly, that his best mate Niall had floated the idea for him to apply for The Block.

“Mate, you’d be a shoo-in!” he’d exclaimed. “Nah but I’m serious! You’ve got the skills, you’ve got the personality, you’re fucking gorgeous, obviously. They’d be dead-set idiots not to cast you.”

The Block was a reality television show where five teams of two renovated a flat or a house, in the same block. Each week, the contestants would renovate a room of the house, style it for a prospective buyer, after which it would be judged by a group of flamboyant and surly judges. Once the whole house was renovated, the network would sell it at auction. Teams would pocket the money the property reached over the reserve price and the team that made the biggest profit would win an additional hundred grand.

If the market was healthy, it was a massive opportunity–teams had won hundreds of thousands of dollars for only a few months work. There was a public profile for those who sought it out after the show finished screening, which Louis didn’t really care about either way, but at the very least, if they were cast and did well, it would be a major cash injection and advertisement for his new company. It could change his life; if he was honest, Louis believed Niall when he said he’d be good for it. He was all those things: a solid tradesman, up to date with all the latest styles and materials, and a notorious show-pony and semi-pro pain in the ass who almost always got away with it because of his boyish good looks. He worked hard and played hard.

Louis was slight but strong and he won the boys and girls over with his sparkling blue eyes, cheeky smile and ample ass, at least for a wiry guy. Niall had once joked that he made straightest of straights on the worksite question their sexuality, which in Louis’ experience wasn’t far from the truth. Chippies, he’d told Niall darkly, seemed particularly open to a quick mutual handy in the demountable project office and Niall had made a crack about wood, naturally.

“Ok, I’ll indulge you,” Louis had mused. “But what are you bringing to the table? Budgets? Hate to break it to ya mate, but I’m already pretty good with a spreadsheet, and there isn’t really a huge demand for investment advice on the show.” Niall worked in Finance and was apparently immune to any kind of physical labour, if the frequency of Louis being summoned to his place to fix or install something was anything to go by. Niall repaid him in financial advice; in fact, it was his calculations that had given Louis the bad news that he’d need at least fifteen grand in excess of a standard business loan to get his company off the ground with enough of a float to not bomb if the first couple of projects went south.

“Nah, not me dude, you know I don’t like to get dirty,” Niall laughed, brushing invisible dirt off his crisp business shirt rolled up to his elbows, his muscular forearms leaning on the edge of the table where condensation from their glasses had been pooling on the table top. Niall was Louis’ opposite, calm and sensible, and much too gentle for the harsh light of reality television.

“I actually had an idea about that,” he continued, and Louis briefly wondered how long Niall had been considering this ludicrous concept. “What about Harry?”

Louis had immediately groaned, loud enough for a couple of nearby patrons to turn on their stools. Harry was Niall’s housemate, and in Louis’ opinion, a complete wanker. When they’d first met at Niall’s, literally a day after he’d moved in, he’d greeted Louis dressed only in black boxer briefs, an assortment of silver jewellery and, of all things, a Camilla Franks kimono.

In response to Louis’ offer of a handshake, half-naked Harry had pulled him into a massive hug and against all bro code known to man, pressed his hips in. To add to the indignity, he’d placed his head on top of Louis’ as he was almost a head taller.

“Nice to meet you, Louis. Any friend of Niall’s is a friend of mine,” he’d said in a slow, deep voice, and Louis had thought it odd as that was something _he_ was meant to say, although after meeting Harry, the sentiment had disappeared.

Once he’d been released, Louis had stumbled back, staring at Niall desperately, eyes screaming _what the fuccccccckkkkkk_. The part of Louis’ brain governed by his dick briefly registered Harry was gorgeous, tall, fucking tall, a drift of dark tattoos down one arm and across his taut belly, dark curls falling past his shoulders pushed back over his forehead, and a calm sexy smile. Even soft, nestled in his pants, his dick looked huge. Louis gulped, suddenly feeling as if he’d entered some sort of twilight zone porno inhabited by a giant surfer butterfly.

“Alright, mate?” he’d replied, flustered, lunging in to grab Harry’s hand for the handshake like an absolute idiot, as if trying to return things to normal after they’d derailed so severely off course.

Louis needn’t have worried about making things awkward by hooking up with Niall’s housemate though, as although Harry was objectively hot, it was immediately apparent that he was so completely not Louis’s type.

Within the first few weeks, he’d planted annuals in a border in the front yard and replaced Niall’s throw cushions with new ones to give the living room more _texture_. He’d taught Niall how to prepare vegan enchiladas, invited a rag-tag bunch of randos from the neighbourhood over for a bookclub and made a big song and dance about having Louis round for beers only to end up roping him into turning Niall’s shed into a man-cave as a birthday present.

Louis had been briefly intrigued again when Niall had told him that Harry had a new boyfriend who was an AFL footballer–Niall had sworn hand on heart, although he’d refused to out the guy to Louis. It was weird thinking of Harry sexually, much less landing some hottie meathead who was most likely professionally closeted and banging him in secret in Harry’s feng shui’d love nest, but Louis hadn’t thought too long on it, and the guy apparently disappeared not that long afterward.

Harry worked freelance as a buyer for a luxury textile and homewares group although he was almost always home during the day when Louis popped by Niall’s to handyman something, doing yoga, or on his laptop surrounded by sample books and empty green smoothie cups. 

Louis had started again, “Ugh, look I’ll pay that he potentially has some useful skills, but mate, this shit is three months of back-breaking work, living in each other’s pockets, early mornings, deadlines, no sleep, how’s he gonna cope with that?”

“Who are you trying to kid, literally no person on this earth copes less with early mornings than you Lou,” Niall had laughed, “but in all seriousness, I think you’re overstating it. He holds down a job fine, and I mean, our place looks fucking fantastic, chicks think I’m some sort of domestic god, and he’s so dedicated when it comes to the people he cares about… remember my shed? That was so fucking nice.” Niall had smiled warmly.

“I did all the fucking work!” Louis had exclaimed, incredulous. “I just can’t see us agreeing on anything!”

“Mate that’s the best thing, you manage the build, do your thing with the tradies,” Louis wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Not _that_ thing, you creep,” Niall had sighed loudly, continuing, “as I was saying, you manage the build, tell him where to be, what to do and when, and you let him do the styling. That’s how literally all the hetero couples do it.” Louis had grimaced at the reference to them being a couple. “Anyway, he’d do the design shit with the added bonus of being strong as hell, it’s perfect. He can squat me, no problem, did you know?”

“I’m not even going to ask how you boys worked that out,” Louis had replied sourly. “What about us being around each other all the time? You don’t think we’ll kill each other?”

“Nah man, Harry wouldn’t kill anybody. You, I’m not so sure…” Niall had paused while Louis had made a face.

“He’s a sweet guy, he’ll do what you say, it’ll just be in his own way. That’s what happens at our place and it works fine. And to be honest, you could do with being a bit more easy-going, if you’re ever going to find a Mr or Mrs Tomlinson to share the immense wealth I’ll help you amass”.

“But Ni, I thought _you_ were going to be Mr Tomlinson!” Louis had replied in faux shock.

“Guess I’m the one person impervious to your charms, Tommo. Anyway, I just think that if you think it’s something you might want to do, you should have a chat with him. What have you got to lose? They get so many applications man, I doubt you’ll get on the show anyway.”

As it turned out, they did.

Niall had directed an absurd audition tape that had played up their differences, Louis hard at work making lists and doing sums, Harry flitting around prettily being indecisive about the appropriateness of different candle and coffee-table book combos. There was a showcase of their individual professional efforts in construction and design, culminating into an adorable set-piece about how they’d both put something of themselves into Niall’s magical man-cave shed. On Niall’s suggestion, they’d hammed up the bromance angle in the interest of appealing to the show’s female producers and although the video made no secret about them being gay mates (or bi, in Louis’ case, even if the ‘mates’ bit was questionable), Louis made sure it was very clear they weren’t in a relationship, or worse, secretly in love with each other. If Niall thought they looked they just happened to look like the hottest couple ever, then that couldn’t really hurt.

Louis thought it was all a bit cliché, the fake ‘opposites attract’ team dynamic. Never mind that there wasn’t any attraction there, romantic, platonic or otherwise, just opposites skilled in their respective fields, both with enough x-factor for television, and enough of a relationship, however tenuous, to work together.

At the first call-out, the casting agents had loved their vibe, Harry’s ease and Louis’ spirited tenacity. When they’d met with the network producers, the producers had waxed lyrical about how they’d been seeking to diversify the show’s pairings for a while, how they thought they were the perfect team to do it and blah blah blah. Louis inferred that they were basically amazed that two dudes that looked like them and were both same-sex attracted weren’t fucking, which made Louis think they mustn’t know very many queer people. Predictably, Harry let the whole thing wash over him, hugging the producers and telling them how pleased he was to be working with them, how much fun they were all going to have. Louis didn’t miss it when one or two of the women blushed profusely when Harry held them close.

Despite his cynicism, Louis couldn’t help but think he and Harry had a unique thing going on; that if he could keep his nagging to a minimum, and Harry could keep his head in the game, they could be in with a real shot. After all, the show was a competition, he was there to win cash, not make friends, not least with Harry. They would each do their bit and hopefully end up with a professional result for the buyer, and a nice pile of cash for each of them at the end of it. Not bad for a few months’ work.

“Do you think we’ll do ok, Lou?” Harry had asked one evening, sitting around the kitchen table at his and Niall’s. Harry picked at the peeling label on his bottle of beer while Louis reviewed their contracts.

“Hm?” Louis looked up from the stack of papers laid out in front of them. “Yeah definitely, we stick to our strengths and try and stay out of each other’s way. I mean this in the best way possible but I really don’t give a shit about drapery and bedside table trinkets or whatever. You do your thing, buddy, I’ve seen what you can do, it’ll be fine”.

“I more meant, like, us? Working together?”

If Louis didn’t know better, he would have sworn Harry looked worried. If he was honest, it hadn’t occurred to him to ask what Harry might be looking to gain by taking on The Block with Louis. Like sure, the money was amazing, could be life-changing, but Louis had never heard Harry talk about the future, what he planned to do with his share. Maybe he’d set himself up with a domestic empire, become a footy WAG and be a professional yummy mummy, maybe design a line of bedding for Target and publish a cookbook of kid-friendly nutritious treats. He hadn't spent much time considering what Harry would be sacrificing to chase this dream, nor had he particularly cared. Even if they did as he intended and stayed out of each other’s way, they were still going to be inextricably linked for posterity. He felt a brief jab of guilt in his chest. He’d been too caught-up with his own shit to even ask.

“Earth to Louis.” Harry stood at the open fridge, holding out a bottle of beer. “Want another?”

Harry looked particularly nice tonight, awash in fridge light, Louis thought distractedly. He was wearing a soft cotton shirt, buttoned once just below his chest and his trademark black skinnies that Louis thought made him look about seven feet tall. His hair hung loose around his shoulders. The slightly forlorn expression he wore on his face was not one Louis had seen on Harry much before, but even that made him look sweet, pensive. _Soft_, Louis thought. He briefly had an urge to wrap an arm around his shoulders, reassure him, before he checked himself.

“Ah, sure.” Louis let out a little awkward cough. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

Harry wandered back over and passed Louis his beer. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it. I’ll let you read in peace, make sure I’m not signing my life away.”

Wandering off, Harry looked over his shoulder to shoot Louis his usual beaming smile and Louis felt his chest loosen.

**

The site was in North Melbourne, close to the city, but they wouldn’t get the chance to check it out properly until the following day.

On the first night, the day before filming officially started, Louis and Harry had their first opportunity to meet all the teams properly at a cast dinner down at a pub close to the staging hotel. They’d briefly met each of the teams at the meet and greet a month or so ago, and yesterday’s briefings had been so back-to-back that they hadn’t had much time to get to know one another.

Louis and Harry were at the large table in local pub’s function room, sandwiched between Liam and Sophia, high school sweethearts from Sydney on their left, and Paul and Clo, an older couple.

“So, you two are mates? Not related? Not dating?” Sophia asked, leaning over Liam to speak to Louis. She already sounded a bit tipsy from the free-flowing Sauv Blanc. She was beautiful in a conventional way, Louis thought, long dark hair, blue eyes, big lips which were maybe natural.

“Just mates, yeah, Harry here moved in with my mate Niall, that’s how we met.”

“You both single then?” Sophia asked, giving Louis a wink.

“Ha!” Louis laughed out loud. “I am, definitely. Was seeing a nice girl for a bit before this but nothing serious. As for Harry, you’ll have to ask him”.

“Soph and I have been together since we were seventeen, haven’t we Soph?” Liam piped up, unprompted.

Louis thought he’d never seen a guy quite so enamoured with his girl as Liam was with Sophia.Liam was a personal trainer and Sophia was a primary school teacher and Louis thought they really did make a cute couple, if a bit clueless. They had no renovating experience to speak of although Sophia told Louis she dabbled in home decorating, primarily from Kmart, what with their budget. They were on the show trying to win some money to start their lives together.

Meanwhile, Harry chatted animatedly to Clo, sat at his right. She told him that her husband Paul owned his own plumbing company and that she had worked in the same doctor’s office for twenty-five years, barring time off to have their sons, now adults.

“And where are you guys from, Clo?” Harry enquired politely.

“Oh, silly me, I didn’t even say. Perth, love. I tell you what it’s not cheap out there. I mean, Paul, he works so hard, but it’s not the kind of job you can keep doing into your sixties, too hard you know. He would have liked to pass the business onto the boys and maybe wind down a bit, do more of the managing side you know, but we got hit a bit hard by the financial crisis a few years back and, well, Rick is a banker and lives in Sydney and Josh is in the army, off in the Solomons.” She went on, “we’d love to win some money just to set us up for retirement, you know, love? Nothing fancy, do up the house a bit and maybe get us a campervan to head around the country,” she rambled on, finally coming to a halt with a sigh. “What about you, darl? You boys wanting to settle down?”

“Oh, Louis and I aren’t together, we’re just friends.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry love, I could have sworn! I already warned Paul not to say anything stupid to you two. He’s not, you know, homophobic or anything like that, not at all, he just puts his foot in it.” She laughed cheerfully.

After dinner, everyone shifted chairs and Louis spent some time chatting to Perrie and Jade, girls also from Melbourne. Perrie had auditioned for the show with her ex-boyfriend, a sparky, but they’d split before second interviews–he’d left to _go find himself,_ Jade had said using air quotes, her voice dripping with disdain). The producers had loved Perrie so much that they’d let her introduce Jade, who’d been able to take time off from her job as a building insurance broker. Jade rolled her eyes when she’d mentioned the ex, putting her arm around Perrie protectively.

“Shout out to that asshole, look at us now. We’re gonna make a killing, aren’t we Pez, and then go on a long holiday and find ourselves a couple of gorgeous European husbands,” Jade stated, raising her glass. Perrie reached around her shoulders and kissed her on the cheek. “Chicks before dicks.” Louis laughed. 

Towards the end of the night, Louis spied Harry leaning into Jules and James, the final couple, marrieds from Queensland. Louis didn’t know Harry that well but he knew him well enough to know that he was cooing at pictures of their two kids on James’ iPhone. It was one thing he and Harry shared, oddly enough–a love of children. Louis had helped raise his baby sisters before moving to Melbourne for uni and had always been surrounded by kids and Harry often spoke unashamedly about how he couldn’t wait to settle down and raise a family in the suburbs. Harry was very sweet to watch when Niall’s brother popped around with his little one, Louis thought admittedly.

James worked in advertising and Jules was marketing manager at a power company. Together, they’d previously renovated their family home and flipped an investment property but their jobs and weekend renovating didn’t leave them much family time. Their kids were with her parents up in Cairns while they filmed the show, and The Block was a temporary sacrifice for what they hoped would be a permanent payoff.

**

Louis hadn’t been wrong about the hard work. It was back-breaking stuff, especially the first couple of days of demolition.

Their block was a row of derelict nineteenth century two-storey terraces backing onto a park. It was a killer location, fifteen minutes from the city by car, a bit more on the tram, or a forty-five minute walk, if the weather was good. The houses had previously been owned by a charity, if Louis had understood foremen Keith and Dan’s briefing correctly, who’d purchased them in the fifties intending to turn them into community housing for returned servicemen.

The charity had run out of money before they’d been able to invest in the project, and in the eighties, the city had heritage-listed parts of the façade meaning they were too expensive to convert. They’d languished for another ten or so years before they’d been bought again by the council for well below cost.

No developer had wanted to touch them until recently when the less desirable parts of the suburb were gentrified but the network had supposedly been in negotiation for years, looking to scoop them up just at the right time. That time had finally arrived a few years ago, and they’d since sat, untouched, on a quiet street in North Melbourne, waiting for Harry, Louis and a bunch of other intrepid renovators to come and return them to their former glory.

To Louis’ pleasant surprise, and as Niall had predicted, Harry was a gun at demo with his long legs and strong arms. When he’d rocked up in the decrepit living room at seven-am for their first day of work and his first set of orders from Louis, hair in two French braids to fit under his hard hat, (finally procured) pink work boots on his feet, sponsor-issued grey hoodie over bright yellow shorts, Louis had laughed out loud.

“I warned ya, didn’t I mate,” Louis said, snickering. “Construction Barbie,” tipping his head towards Eric, their builder. Eric was a mate and contact of Louis’ through work and he’d been Louis’ first–and only–choice for a builder. Although Louis was more than able to project manage the build himself, he and Eric had agreed to have his team come in to do standard trades and labouring, and Eric himself work for a reduced rate as a carpenter rather than project manager in exchange for the exposure. Louis had also decided early on that he needed a proper wingman on site to keep him sane, and although it wasn’t in the contract, to keep him from murdering Harry as well. Eric was a burly dude who looked a bit like a Viking with his light red hair and beard.

“Leave it, Lou,” he’d countered. “C’mon Haz, let’s get to work”.

To Harry’s credit, he’d gotten into it without complaint, followed instructions, and a few hours later had removed two walls and part of the sub-floor and carted the debris off into the skip. He’d also been remarkably sensible around the cameras, only acknowledging them occasionally with a sly wink. Louis was ready to call Niall and tell him he’d been all wrong.

The first week’s room for renovation was a bedroom, relatively simple, Louis hoped. Each week, they’d renovate a room in full, then be able to use that room to live in.

“Haz,” Louis started, staring up from his Gantt charts at lunch. “Harry, Harriet, Harold–pay attention.” He clicked his fingers impatiently.

Harry looked up dopily, he was browsing Pinterest as usual, no doubt envisioning all sorts of wild, cost-prohibitive plans. Louis thought himself well-versed in the latest trends in architecture and design but he knew Harry was on another level. Just last night Louis had busted him frothing over a _thirty-thousand-dollar_ pink velvet curved sofa and he’d had to let Harry know that, in no uncertain terms, he’d be holding the purse strings and that they weren’t going to spend an entire room budget on a _couch_.

“So, all we have to do the first week is not fuck it up. We want to keep our costs low early on and spend our money on high quality finishes. If we follow my schedule, we should have enough time this week to allow half a day to style and then the whole night to refine. I’ll need you onsite all of tomorrow and Wednesday for electrical and plastering and then we have the insulation guys coming before the floors can go down.”

He raved on, consulting his chart. “Keith says we’re up after Payno and Soph for the insulation install so we’ll need to be flexible for that in the arvo so I don’t want you running off to the shops; I’m going to make some calls and try and squeeze the flooring in on Wednesday night in which case we can paint, but if we can’t, I’ll need you here on Thursday as well because we’ll have to do that and have it dry before the wardrobe guys are here on Friday. That being said, I reckon that’s sure to go behind schedule because we’re up after everyone else on. We’ll have to get all the furniture in around the wardrobe installation, on Saturday I guess, which gives us the better part of the afternoon to fix everything and you style that evening and overnight to set. You can do your _zhuzhing_ or whatever it is you people do in that time, right?” His voice was mocking.

“Sure, Lou, sounds like you’ve got it all planned out,” Harry replied pleasantly. He’d taken his hard hat off and was undoing the braids in his hair, little wisps sticking out at all angles by his ears where they’d been dampened with sweat. He tipped his head down before flipping his head back up, shaking his curls back over shoulders. He’d stripped off his flannel work shirt and Louis watched his biceps flex as he spooned yoghurt into his mouth.

Week ofne had been progressing with minimal issues. Harry continued to work like a dog and Louis continued to rule with an iron fist. Harry had only done one very quick recce to the shops while Louis had been overseeing the insulation install, and Harry had only gotten waylaid briefly to swoon over a Tim Rundle console table–but all was well.

By Thursday morning, they had walls up and plastered and electrical completed. The remainder of the floor was due to go in at eleven; Harry had sacrificed the bulk of his styling budget for their hallway and laundry room in exchange for gorgeous oak parquetry that he intended to extend throughout the house, but unfortunately, the install was blowing out Louis’ schedule. The elation of the first half of the week was ready to give over to post-hump day anxiety as Sunday morning judging loomed large. As usual, Louis was dealing with it poorly. 

“Haz for fuck’s sake!” he exclaimed. “This is taking far too long. We need this in before midday so we can negotiate the joinery guys to come and do our wardrobes.. If we delay that, then we delay painting, then we won’t have enough time to fix the imperfections! It won’t matter how nice your bloody bed looks if the paint is full of air bubbles, fucking hell.”

“Lou, it’s fine, Marco says they’ll be here at ten and that as long as they don’t have to do any extra cutting, it should be done by twelve.”

“We should have carpeted! It’s fucking cold in Melbourne, people want carpets in bedrooms. God, I knew you’d do something like this!”

Harry straightened indignantly, “You said you’d trust me on design, Louis. Carpet is ugly, and it dates, and will you look at this timber, the grain is amazing, like I would _die_ if I had this in my house. Anyway, it’s too late now because we can’t have a shaker-style wardrobe with carpet because the trim will be the wrong colour I’ve chosen a lighting scheme for a _light wood_ floor and–”

Louis cut him off. “Harry, for once in your life, be sensible! We have to make compromises!”

“I don’t see you making any, Lou!” Harry accused. “Why are we only making compromises on _my_ stuff, huh? Why did we need extra trades in the other day, hm? I told you I could help Eric with those plaster sheets, we didn’t need to pay for labour!”

“Oh,” Louis fumed, “I can see that going well, Harry Styles stopping to twirl or flirt on our landing with plaster sheets in his arms, we’d still be here waiting for them next week!” He felt the familiar heat in chest that meant he was gearing up to fight.

Harry shook his head, “Sorry to say, you’re being a _bit_ of a control freak, Lou.”

“And you’re being a princess!” Louis sneered.

Harry winced before speaking quietly. “Someone has to bring a bit of joy into this, Louis! You can’t just beat design into submission the way you do a build. It needs care, and love. I want you to feel the space _speak_ to you, tell you what it wants, what it _needs_. I want you to love what we’re trying to do here!”

Louis felt like his head was going to explode. “You’re driving me insane!” While Louis was used to conflict, embraced it even, he didn’t know how to deal with Harry when he was like this. Soft but firm, pliant but not a pushover. He wanted Harry to yell and scream and maybe give him a bit of a shove so Louis could shout him down and win him over with the sheer force of his will. But Harry was unflappable; he didn’t want to fight, he wanted Louis to _listen to the space_. Fucking hell.

Louis did all he could, which was to promptly storm off.

Later that day, once the contentious flooring was finally installed–to Louis’ endless chagrin, it looked bloody amazing–he found himself in Liam and Sophia’s house. Their camera crew was off with Sophia who was shopping for soft furnishings so Liam and Louis had the place to themselves.

Liam and Sophia were making reasonable progress with their bedroom, although Louis noted with mixed feelings that Sophia had chosen a particularly nasty looking carpet. He felt sorry for them with their lack of experience and taste, attempting to get by on simple hard work and love for each other, but then not every team could have Harry doing their styling. He shrugged to himself, a Harry came with pros and cons.

“Looking pretty good in here, Payno. How’re you guys holding up?”

“Yeah, going good mate. It’s bloody hard work, isn’t it? I mean, I’m used to early starts and obviously experienced at heavy lifting but this is something else.” Louis huffed a laugh as if Liam had made a joke, but then Liam was so earnest it was sometimes hard to tell if he was being facetious or being genuine.

“You guys don’t want to kill each other yet, then?” Louis asked.

“I mean, not really? We’ve argued a bit but nothing major. You and Haz managing ok? I thought you guys would be doing better than all of us couples, easier being friends, you know? Not as emotional.”

“Yeah, we might have oversold that a bit. Bit more of a marriage of convenience. We’re fighting like we’re married in any case,” Louis replied, glumly.

“Well, it’s about trust, isn’t it, marriage. I mean, Soph and I aren’t married, yet, but you if you don’t have trust you don’t have anything.”

Louis watched a dazed look come over Liam’s face. “You guys getting married then?” he asked softly.

Liam lowered his eyes, “I’d like to, I was planning to ask her, if this all goes well. I think she’s expecting it but we haven’t really talked about it, recently I mean. She’s the one for me. Always has been.” Liam blushed the colour of Harry’s work boots and cleared his throat. “This is awkward, sorry mate”.

“Nah, you’re alright bro.” Louis clapped him on the shoulder, hoping it conveyed a feeling of manly support.

“Do you trust him? Harry?” Liam asked.

Louis scrunched his face up, “Honestly? No. Like I don’t expect him to go berserk and spend all our money or anything, but I just worry he’ll get so fixated on small things that he won’t see the big picture and it’ll screw us over. I just think its better if I’m in control, you know?”

“Something to work on then, eh?” Liam replied, pushing himself up off the ground where they were sitting to resume his cleaning, and for a moment Louis didn’t know if Liam was referring to Harry, or him.

**

“Haz, we don’t have time to go back out to the shops, we only have two hours until tools-down, just work with what you’ve got, it looked great,” Louis pleaded, wishing he could just put his foot down and say no like he would in his day-to-day professional life. He honestly didn’t think changing such an insignificant thing would make a scrap of difference, but it was just Harry being Harry, and it infuriated him.

“Lou, I know what I need, it’ll just be in and out, it’s just the sconces that are throwing off the bedhead, the scale is wrong,” Harry gestured around with his hands to illustrate his point. “They have pendants which will work better, I just need to dash in and grab them.”

It was late afternoon Saturday and room reveal was the following morning.

“We don’t have time to take these ones out of the wall Haz, it’s only you me and Eric tonight so we need to get in all our fixtures done before tools-down and we need to get the bed in before we affix the bedsides. And we’ll need the three of us lug it in here.”

Harry had chosen a gorgeous timber and leather queen bed with attached bedsides that all slotted directly into the wall. They needed to get the bedframe in place before they could even touch anything else, and the whole piece weighed a ton.

“They’re just lights, who fucking cares!?” Louis sighed. Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say.

Harry made a face. “_I_ do,” he said with renewed determination, signalling to Louis he wouldn’t be persuaded. “I’ll only be half an hour.”

Louis’ eyes bugged out of his head, but he remained silent.

Harry took the better part of an hour, what with traffic, and when he returned, Louis and Eric were up to their eyeballs in screws and fixtures, maniacally trying to fit all the noise into the last ten minutes of the day. Louis was so sweaty he looked like he’d been rained on, and Eric had his thumb in his mouth, having whacked it with a hammer. They looked most unimpressed when Harry sheepishly dumped his new lights on the bed. Eric groaned. He had another hour at least of installing Harry’s new pendants.

“Fuck, Harry, thanks a lot,” he grumbled, and Louis agreed.

By three-am, once all the furniture was in the room and Harry had styled, and edited, and re-styled, and edited once more, they were just fussing. Louis was still sore about the lights, throwing Harry dark looks as Harry lovingly polished his new pendants with a cloth. Louis was sat on the floor trying to screw in the doorhandle so it latched into place with perfect precision. They were both exhausted.

“C’mon Haz, this is as good as its going to get. Let’s pack it in,” Louis groaned, raising himself from the floor like the dead. Harry nodded sleepily, tweaking a magnolia leaf in a vase on the bookshelf before stumbling out after Louis.

A few hours later that same morning, Louis was having his hair blown out by one of the stylists. Five hours of sleep felt positively luxurious in contrast to the previous few nights, and it was heaven to be in clothes other than work-boots, shorts and a hoodie for judging. Judging was really their only opportunity to dress up during the show and Louis assumed it was to remind the viewers of Australia that they didn’t perpetually look dirty and disgusting.

In the chair next to him, Harry was having his nose powdered. He was dressed in his trademark jeans and an expensive looking cream-coloured fisherman’s sweater and Louis was irrationally annoyed about how warm and snuggly he looked.

When it finally came their turn to hear their comments, Louis was dead on his feet. Jules and James had received good comments for a luxurious guest bedroom, although the judges had thought their finishes needed work. Paul and Clo had experienced a disaster during the week with their ceiling which had to be replaced, putting them so far behind their room had only been partly finished. Liam and Sophia had done well despite the judges thinking their room was a bit safe and lacked flair and Pez and Jade had been chastised for their painting despite some great styling instincts.

“Harry and Louis,” Scott Cam, the show’s effusive host, began. At some point they’d become ‘Harry and Louis’ rather than ‘Louis and Harry’, which Louis had pouted about childishly.

“The first thing the judges said when they entered your room was ‘_ahhh_’,” Scotty beamed at them. Harry grabbed Louis’ elbow and squeezed and Louis bounced nervously on the balls of his feet. 

“They thought your room immediately felt calm with a beautifully restrained use of colour. They commended you for creating a room that felt simple but also modern and glamorous, one which they could immediately imagine themselves staying in.”

Scott Cam continued, “They loved your use of texture, the natural touches of timber and your soft furnishings. They agreed the hero of the room was the parquetry and that incredible bed.” Louis threw Harry a begrudging smile, more like a smirk really.

“Neale commended your art choices saying they were understated but beautiful and Darren thought your use of shaker-style wardrobes really played up the heritage features of the house.”

“But.” Here came the buts, thought Louis, sensing Harry’s grip tightening on his arm.

“The judges all _hated_ your pendants and said they looked like they’d been installed by a ten-year-old. Shaynna thought they cheapened the room and that you could have made use of some beautiful sconces to provide some intimate lighting near the bed and reinforce that romantic vibe you were going for.” Louis bristled. 

“The judges commended the rest of your execution and said it was the best painted of all the bedrooms but it was obvious the styling felt rushed. Although they loved your choices of furniture, it felt like you didn’t consider the space when placing them in the room.”

“They suggest next week you spend more time considering the layout of your room and the flow of the space. They said you needed to be more confident in your styling choices and not make silly decisions because you obviously have talent.” Scotty paused for effect, “And that’s it!”

Ultimately, they came second with a score of 25.5 thanks to a 9 from Darren, an 8.5 from Neale and a flat 8 from Shaynna. Harry was pleased with their score and drew Louis into a loose hug but Louis was brooding. Oh well, onto the next.

**

The following week was main bathroom week, notorious for tripping up the most organised of contestants. Louis was nothing if not organised but he was struggling with relinquishing control to their plumbers and tilers. By Thursday, true to form, he was taking his feelings out on someone else.

“Paul!” He boomed up Paul and Clo’s stairwell–Paul was likely in, or near, their own bathroom. “Mate your crap is blocking the driveway and we can’t get our tiles through!”

All teams shared a driveway behind their terraces that connected the back of the house to the detached garages. As Harry and Louis’ place was at the very end of the row, they had to bypass everyone else’s sites to reach their own and so deliveries were a nightmare.

“No worries, Tommo, our tilers are coming at two!” Paul shouted down the stairs.

“It’s midday mate, we need them gone in the next half an hour otherwise they’ll have to deliver our tiles on Payno’s doorstep! We’re tiling overnight!”

“Just move ‘em mate! Or push your delivery back!” Paul didn’t say if he meant his offending tiles, or Harry and Louis’ that seemed destined to end up on Liam and Sophia’s doorstep, effectively blocking the driveway entirely.

“It’s not our fault they’re there, blame the girls, they blocked the drive having their bath delivered otherwise we would have put them on the lawn! Get them to sort you out with the forklift!” Paul shouted.

“Mate, I’m not putting twenty grand’s worth of Harry’s Carrara marble tiles on a bloody forklift, move your shit!” Louis stomped off.

Harry had ordered their bathroom fixtures the week before and was trying to stay out of Louis’ way while he managed the revolving door of tradesmen through their place. Harry honestly thought Louis might lose it if he had to push back their tiling–he’d already managed two setbacks this week, one with the placement of the floor joists supporting the enormous bath Harry had chosen, and another with the pipes affecting the location of the toilet.

“Lou?” Harry popped his head round the frame of the door. Dan, the foreman, was crouched over the threshold of their bathroom, inspecting their waterproofing. Louis was madly chewing his fingernails watching him–if wasn’t sealed, they’d be forced to delay their tiling even further.

“Um, do you want me to sort out the tiles with Paul?” Harry asked, desperately wanting to be helpful.

“Harry,” Louis said firmly, “I’ve got it, just let me finish up with Dan and I’ll deal with it.”

“Are you sure, I mean–”

“Harry, just get lost! Please. Go buy some candles or something, I can’t deal with your shit on top of everything else,” Louis snapped. Harry looked crestfallen but did as he was told.

“Bit harsh there, mate,” came a voice from down on the ground. Dan withdrew his fingers from their shower drain. Louis groaned, “Not you too. Give it a rest.”

“Just listen to me for a sec, just take a minute.” Dan rose up to his full height to face Louis. Dan had been a contestant years ago and he understood the pressures of the show as well as anyone. 

“Look, I can see that you’re stressing out but you guys are a team. No one’s in charge, you work together. The poor guy just wants to help and you’re not letting him in, only it’s obviously not working for you because I could feel you breathing down my neck, literally, so I can only imagine how he feels.”

Louis breathed out a big sigh. He was intimately aware of their crew filming the exchange from across the hallway. He felt cornered, temperature rising.

“I’ll leave you and H to it,” he paused, “Oh, and I can certify your waterproofing. You’re clear to tile.” He let out a big booming laugh, clapped Louis on the shoulder and Louis immediately felt like a weight had been lifted off.

“Haz, wait!” Louis called down the stairs. He caught him wheeling another load of debris to the skip. He really didn’t stop, Louis thought, even when Louis was an asshole to him.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you. I’m an asshole. I would be very grateful if you went and sorted out the tiles with Paul,” Louis smiled wryly, “I think he’d probably rather talk to you anyway.”

Harry smiled back, “Ok then.” Harry turned to go see Paul.

“Oh, and Haz? You know you don’t have to ask my permission to do shit around here. Like, I know I can be a bit bossy…” Louis mumbled, and Harry’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. “But you’re as important to the success of this team as I am, if not more,” Louis chuckled weakly. “We’re partners, ok? And I’m going to listen to you more. You’ve worked like a maniac, kept your cool with me, and I know this place is going to look beaut once you’re finished with it.”

Harry noticed Louis used more Australianisms when he felt uncomfortable, which was usually when he was being sincere.

“I’m going to hold you to that, you know,” Harry smiled, twisting his hands together shyly.

“I’m not saying you won’t drive me nuts–but I’ll try, ok?” Louis replied, pushing his hair back off his forehead. It was as much of a compromise as he could manage. “Now go get ‘em, tiger!” Louis winked, scampering off to collect his certification paperwork from Dan.

Despite Louis’ best efforts to be nicer to Harry for the rest of the week, their bathroom bombed. The judges hadn’t hated it necessarily, and they hadn’t come last, but they’d been pulled up on their layout thanks to a hidden cistern drama earlier in the week. The judges had also thought they’d done themselves a disservice by not including face-height storage despite Harry’s insistence that was less important in the bathroom where there was an enormous vanity rather than in the ensuite where they planned to include it.

To his credit, Louis had poked and prodded for mirror cabinets but let Harry win. He’d never have admitted it but watching Harry fawn adorably over the bespoke mirrors he’d ordered instead was well worth the judges’ criticism.

“We’re in good shape for next week, right?” Harry cheerily asked as they left the set after judging. “Do you want to go get a drink?”

“Ah,” Louis scratched the back of his head uncomfortably. “I sort of told Eric we’d look over the plans for the master suite at the pub this arvo. I mean, you can come–you should come–if you want?”

“Oh,” Harry looked disappointed, “another time then. I wouldn’t want to interrupt your… bro time or whatever.” He huffed an awkward laugh, trying to save face. “Liam and Sophia and the girls were hanging out anyway, asked if we wanted to get an early dinner, so I’ll just tag along with them, it’s fine.” Harry paused, “Talk me through the plans when you get back, yeah?”

The car ride back was silent and awkward, Harry picking at the holes in his jeans as Louis kept his eyes firmly on the road.

Week Two rolled into Week Three; living and dining room week. Louis had made life difficult for himself once again, having convinced Eric and the crew to attempt a coffered ceiling. Harry swore he’d seen one of the apprentice carpenters cry when Louis had taken a piece of cut timber off the pile, waved it in the kid’s face and whispered, “This has a splinter in it, _look_–” pointing out the offending sliver, “it’s not good enough.”

The design concept Harry was planning throughout the house was one of heritage luxury with modern touches. His palate included crisp whites, the natural tones of timber, beiges and browns, offset with pops of charcoal grey, plums and pinks. Louis feared it would be a little girly and had complained at length to Harry about it, but Harry had assured him the velvet and drapery would be offset by marble in the kitchen and bathrooms. Timber would also be used throughout, including the parquetry, which would go to making the house feel more masculine; unique artwork and black and brass fixtures would bring it all together. Quietly, Louis thought he was doing well in learning to trust Harry, and in any case, besides the bathrooms and kitchen, there was little damage Harry could do that Louis couldn’t fix later. Of course, he didn’t tell Harry this.

Towards the end of living and dining week, their weekly challenge was sprung upon them. Challenges were sometimes fun, sometimes painful, but _always_ stressful–Louis was painfully competitive and always itching to return to the site, and so Harry had learned to dread them.

At their first challenge, the one that had won them their pick of the terraces, Louis had wiped the floor with all the other contestants in a flat-pack furniture race–Harry had barely contributed beyond ripping open boxes and holding the tall bits upright and Louis had barely spoken to him except to shout instructions at him.

At their second challenge, they’d had to prepare a brief on their house’s style concept and target market, and Harry had acquitted himself well during the presentation, despite Louis’ constant interruptions. 

This week’s challenge was a pure interior design challenge and Harry’s to win or lose, _if_ Louis could loosen the reins a bit, Harry thought. Louis was already bristling because the challenge was three hours out of town and they wouldn’t be back at the site until after tools-down. Harry gulped as they received their briefings from Shelley, Scott Cam’s occasional co-host.

“Teams, your challenge is to each style a guest room of this incredible historic homestead. Wattlebird Estate was built in 1855 on a former sheep station which covered almost fifty-thousand hectares. In the 1960s, this landmark property was purchased privately and part of the estate was turned into one of Victoria’s first bed and breakfasts. Today, the property is heritage listed and operates as a venue for weddings, events and spectacular mountain getaways.”

“Since we’re a bit far away from the shops today, we’ve brought the shops to you by way of The Block Shop. You’ll each have a set amount to spend in Block Shop vouchers, so spend wisely!”

The Block Shop was a shop near to the worksite that operated as a supplier of the show’s sponsored goods and preferred retailers, and it was the bane of Harry’s existence. Harry thought it was full of generic, derivative junk that you could find anywhere, usually several seasons after it had been on trend. Shopping there, Harry thought, made everyone’s rooms look the same and he much preferred to go to out-of‑the way boutiques that had more original items that he could experiment with, talk to designers, and, to Louis’ delight, use his professional connections to get discounts. At Shelley’s announcement, Harry groaned inwardly.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Shelley briefed them, “you’ll each have a particular paint colour to guide you in styling your room, which you’ll find on the back of your room doors. You have three hours. Good luck!” Shelley finished with a flourish, clasping her hands together.

Harry felt Louis shove him in the back, directing him into the guesthouse and down the hall until they reached the door with their photo on it. He pushed open the door. It was a nice little room, a large window on the back wall, an old iron fireplace with a mantlepiece on the left, room for a bed on the right, hardwood floors with ornate cornices and a ceiling rose. The walls were currently an off-white colour, yellowed over time.

“Shift your ass, Styles, let us have a look.” Louis pushed into the room under Harry’s arm, outstretched, holding the door. “What’s our colour then?” Louis ripped their picture off the back of the door and flipped it over.

“_Night Watch_.” It was a deep bluey-green. Not awful, Harry thought, as Louis flipped the lid off the tin.

“Alright,” Harry instructed, “you get painting and I’m going to The Block Shop. I think if we just paint above the panelling, that should be good.” He scurried off–pickings were already slim at The Block Shop and he wanted to get there before all the better stuff was ransacked by the other teams. 

Thirty minutes later, Harry returned with his arms full of soft furnishings, dumping them in the centre of the room.

“Hey, come help carry in the rest–” Harry stopped. “Lou, what have you _done_!”

Louis was slapping paint over the wainscoting making the entire wall blue.

Harry lifted his hand over his mouth. “We were going to leave those white! It’s going to take ten times longer to paint if we have to cut in around the skirting boards! Louis!” Harry looked bereft. “We don’t have enough time to build all our furniture and get it in the room if we have to do all this and wait for it to dry!” He explained forlornly.

“Calm your farm, Harold,” Louis shrugged. “I just thought it looked more modern.”

“Anyway,” Louis continued “it won’t take too long to long to bung together a bed and a dresser and chuck some cushions on top. I’ve seen you, you’re a wizard Harry!” He laughed at his own joke, continuing to apply paint to the wall in practiced strokes.

An hour and a half later, because Louis was so particular, the painting still wasn’t done and Harry found himself hurriedly attempting to assemble a bedside table in the hallway, but he wasn’t as quick as Louis and he kept dropping the fittings with his larger fingers. They had just over an hour to go and he’d basically had to do the whole damn thing himself.

“I’ll be done in five minutes, it’s fine, drama queen,” Louis muttered through gritted teeth.

“The irony of _you_ telling anyone else to calm down isn’t lost on me.” Harry was wrestling with the duvet now, trying to shove the damn thing into its cover with his long arms.

“Alright, I’m done, what do you need me to do?” Louis had paint on his cheek and his fingers and he hastily wiped his hands on his top.

“That–” Harry pointed to a shaggy stool, “over there,” he pointed to a corner of the room. “I need you to put up this print on the wall above the bed and hang the mirror over the fireplace. I need to go grab the rug.”

Louis wrestled with the drill while Harry shoved little decorative items around the room, a vase on the mantle, a candle on the bedside, a bronze cockatoo on the dresser. There was twenty minutes left, then ten.

“What now?” Louis panted. 

“Help me lift the bed so we can stick the rug underneath.”

Louis grunted as he lifted a corner of the wooden bed frame off the ground and Harry clumsily unrolled the rug with his foot.

“Ok, now we–” Harry’s face turned white. “We were meant to go back and get the mattress! We can’t present a _bedroom_ without a mattress Louis!” He looked like he was about to cry.

There was under five minutes left.

“Come on, we have to try.” Harry sounded like a marathoner who’d just been told he’d have to run another ten km.

They sprinted back to The Block Shop where Harry’s forgotten mattress lay against the wall.

“Quick!” Harry huffed and puffed, trying to get the mattress across the lawn and into the hallway, but it was heavy, and it was no use.

“Two minutes left!” Shelley called.

Harry realised then that they’d run out of time. They could get the mattress in but miss out styling the bed or style the bed but abandon the mattress. Harry chose the latter, abandoning Louis in the hallway as well. He had just enough time to shake the doona out over the bed, drape over a throw rug and arrange his pillows. He stepped back to survey his work. The room looked acceptable, albeit rushed, but the bed looked terrible.

“And that’s time! Tools down, everyone!”

Louis braced himself in the doorway staring at Harry. He had obviously been standing there for a full minute but hadn’t known how to help, Harry thought; despite this, Harry couldn’t even look at him.

Judging was a debacle. Despite the guesthouse manager’s kind platitudes that she could see what they were going for, their lack of mattress was a non-starter and she scored them last. Perrie and Jade picked up their second challenge win with their luscious burgundy room.

“You want to go through the drive-thru before we hit the highway?” Louis asked softly, once they were back in the car–he was driving again. Thankfully, the sponsor cars were fitted with cameras on the rear-view mirror so while they didn’t have their crew with them, Louis was mindful they were still being filmed and some producer would watch their exchange later. 

“What the _fuck_, Louis?” Harry never swore, and Louis had never heard him angry.

Louis gripped the wheel. “I’m sorry, ok, I–” he began.

“No, just shut up for once in your life, Louis. I don’t even give a shit about the challenge, it’s not like it was for charity or anything, but you just did your own thing in there. We agreed on a plan and when I was off doing my bit, you just chucked the whole thing out the window! You didn’t give us a chance, you didn’t give me a chance. I thought we were going to trust each other Louis.” Harry didn’t sound angry anymore, just sad.

“I’ve done everything to support you and you’ve given me the bare minimum. I feel like this challenge was my turn to take the reins and you just couldn’t deal. You treat me like some little idiot whose only value is cushions and froufrou, laughing about me with your mates like you do all the real shit and I come in last minute to wave my magic gay wand over it. But you don’t even know me. I can be a good teammate to you, Lou, and I _have_ been a good teammate. You haven’t. Be honest with me,” Harry sighed, “do you want to give up? Go home? Said we tried but just make it work together?” He looked like he was going to cry. 

Louis groaned; Harry was right, Dan was right, Liam was right, they were _all_ right.

“I’m sorry Haz. You’re right, I do struggle with letting go. I had a sliding doors moment in that room by myself. Like I knew it was a bad idea going against what we agreed but it was like I couldn’t stop myself. I swear to god, if someone puts a button in front of me saying ‘don’t push’, I’m not going to stop thinking about it until I’ve pushed it. I’m bossy and a troublemaker and I’m perverse and you have been more than patient with me and you don’t deserve it. I promise, I want to keep going. With you. Us, together. I’m going to be better. It was a dick move. I mean… the walls looked great but–”

“_Total_ dick move, Tomlinson,” Harry talked over the top of him. “Get me some fries and a vanilla thickshake. _Small_ fries. I’m watching my figure.” Louis supposed that meant ‘you’re forgiven’.

**

Their open plan living and dining room turned out beautifully. Louis’ ceiling was a triumph and Harry and Louis picked up their first win of the series with a score of 29. Louis had designed a built-in bookcase together that doubled as a reading nook, inlaid with more of Harry’s Carrara marble and the judges were in raptures. Along with a classy oval dining table and matching velvet dining chairs, Harry had sourced an incredible one-of-a-kind curved sofa that wrapped the room in a big warm hug. Although he’d found it for a steal, he’d still had to persuade Louis to let him splurge on it. From his point of view, Louis hadn’t been at all sold on the sofa until he’d seen Harry luxuriating on it, _stroking_ it, grinning. Flustered, Louis had made a quick getaway with the excuse of needing to urgently go talk to Dan. Real smooth, he’d cringed to himself.

Kitchen week was also going remarkably well. Harry and Louis had gone together to choose their cabinetry and Harry was planning to revisit the marble and timber that he’d promised Louis would offset the feminine touches in the living room.

The kitchen guys were scheduled to come in and do the fit-out on Thursday and, because the company was one of the show’s main sponsors, Keith and Dan were overseeing the install. This meant that, for once, Louis didn’t need to be onsite. He’d promised Harry he’d come and help choose styling items; a few small appliances to dress the shelves of their butler’s pantry, a couple of cookbooks, a fruit bowl, stuff for a cheeseboard. It wasn’t a two-person job but it was a nice thing to do together, one unlikely to lead to an argument. Louis had told Eric they’d both be out until later, to call him if they were needed. Louis even thought he might be able to fit in an afternoon snooze.

Their purchases stashed in the boot of the car, Harry had used all his charm to persuade Louis to take five minutes to grab a coffee.

“So, Harold,” Louis asked, “you going to show me your marvellous master bedroom plans or are they tippy-top secret?”

They were sat out on the pavement when Louis received the dreaded phone call. He groaned–he hadn’t been wrong to get his coffee in a takeaway cup. 

“Mate, I think they’ve cooked these measurements,” Eric said down the phone. “The way they’ve put the drawers in, you won’t be able to open the Vintec because it whacks right into them. I don’t know if we’ve got time to fix it before they deliver everything tomorrow but you better come back here. They might be able to sort it, or you might need to pick another fridge.” Their large appliances, including a full-size Vintec wine fridge, were due to be delivered the following day.

“Aight, we’re just down the road, be back in a tick,” Louis sighed. So much for his nap. “Kitchen drama,” he said to Harry, dragging him up. “Come on.”

Louis didn’t think it was a huge calamity, obviously the drawers took precedence over a wine fridge, but the kitchen guy obviously thought differently.

“No, no, you won’t be able to put it in here,” he raved.

“Can we remove this piece of benchtop and stick the fridge in this corner where there aren’t any cabinets? Fill in the current space with more shelves?” Louis rubbed his eyes.

“We can’t shorten the benchtop–the stone’s already been cut.”

“Why not? Its Thursday and it’s not being installed until tomorrow afternoon. Get them on the phone, trim it down, and Eric and I will hop down and grab some extra shelves for that space. They’re 600x500mm right? Or fuck it, we can put in a bottle rack or something, who cares. Work with me here, man.”

“The shelves are custom, we wouldn’t be able to get them to you until next week. We have other installations to finish.” Jesus, thought Louis, this guy did not want to play ball.

“Lou? Everything ok in there? Need me to grab Keith?” came a small voice from outside the butler’s pantry.

“Yeah, fine Haz, just sorting out where everything goes in here,” Louis replied. 

“You either put the fridge in and present the room and we fix it later, or you leave the fridge out and you work something else out. It’s too late to move the fridge!” The kitchen guy was becoming agitated.

“Maybe we–” Harry piped up.

Kitchen guy snapped. “Look here darlin’, I’m talking to your precious little boyfriend here and we’re sorting it out. Maybe if we’d left the measuring to the boys instead of letting the girls have a go,” he gestured to Harry’s hair, tied up in a scrunchie, “we wouldn’t be in this mess, hm?” He was sneering now.

“I think if we all just calm down–” Harry tried again, ever polite.

Louis cut him off, directing his attention to the kitchen guy. “You don’t speak to him,” Louis gestured to Harry, “or me, that way”. He was irate.

“I don’t give a shit if you’ve been installing cupboards all day, _mate._” The word was acid on his tongue. “You don’t blame us for your shoddy design, insult my partner here, and then tell us there’s nothing you can do. You’re a bloody disgrace. Get me the number of your supervisor or I’m speaking to Keith and Dan. I want this fixed by tomorrow afternoon, or we’re going to have an issue, am I clear?”

Kitchen guy squared his shoulders, clearly weighing up whether to have another go, but Louis’ blue eyes were ice and Harry wondered, not for the first time, how someone so tiny could be so terrifying. Harry pushed up off the newly installed cabinetry to his full height, and stood feet apart, arms folded. He often forgot how physically imposing he could be and although he felt ridiculous standing there pretending to be all macho, it was effective.

“No need to get carried away, mate,” the kitchen guy said diminutively. “I’m sure we can work something out without getting everyone involved. I’ll make some calls.”

They only came third for their kitchen, despite receiving three nines from the judges; it was a close race and still a fabulous result for their buyer.

After feeling terrible for ditching Harry to hang out with Eric after master bathroom week, Louis hadn’t made the same mistake again. Now, after judging, they’d go out for a drink, tidy their room, sleep, or hang out with the other teams. However, after a disastrous round of mini-golf with Liam and Sophia, culminating in Louis having a dummy-spit and throwing his club, they erred away from more competition.

Teams weren’t forbidden from working Sunday afternoons, and while many spent time browsing online, or looking over their plans, there was an unofficial agreement among the teams that the time after judging was an opportunity to rest, spend time with family, or with each other. Clo joked that she needed the whole afternoon to apologise to Paul for all the awful things she’d said during the week, just so she could feel ok about starting all over again come Monday.

Living and dining room week, Harry and Louis had received a visit from Harry’s mum, which, for Louis, had been a revelation–Anne had been effusive with her praise and Harry had been adorably chuffed. 

“And good on you, Louis, for putting up with our Harry, eh? He can be a handful but he’s a good boy,” she’d said warmly.

“Anne, I promise you, it’s been Harry who’s had to put up with me. He’s been no trouble, honestly.” And Louis felt it was mostly true; Harry had been his usual eccentric self but much more easy-going than Louis had first thought.

“It’s been this one’s,” Louis jerked his head towards Harry, “amazing styling that’s gotten us so far. I just make sure the walls get put up.” Harry had blushed at that comment.

The Sunday of the following week–hallway, laundry and powder room week–Niall had come around to visit the site and have lunch at the pub. While Louis yearned for some time alone with him to debrief on the rollercoaster ride that was his and Harry’s relationship, Harry was Niall’s friend too and so the three of them went out together.

“Well you both look good,” Niall started once they’d sat down with their drinks; pints for him and Louis, a glass of rosé for Harry.

“So, you’re eating, and–” he eyed up Louis who looked like a zombie, “sorta sleeping.” Niall smiled a wicked smile. “And I don’t see any bruises, so you haven’t come to blows yet. That’s good!”

“Catch up Ni, we’re best buds now, aren’t we Harry?” Louis elbowed Harry at his side and winked. Harry blushed.

“Fuck that,” Niall replied, “I don’t believe you. Give me the goss!”

“Nah, it’s been good,” Harry supplied, “hasn’t it, Lou? I think we’ve built some bridges over the last five weeks.” He looked up at Louis with a hopeful smile.

“We’ve had a couple of spats, mate, but we’ve been killing it. Almost always in the top three, and not come last in a room yet. We’re learning to speak each other’s language, eh Harold?”

Louis continued, dramatically, “When Harry says, ‘we need to introduce more advancing colours into this space’, I say ‘yes dear’, and when he says ‘this credenza has a beautifully contrived patina’, I say ‘yes dear’ and when he says ‘dear LouLou can you hand me that _bobeche?_’, I say ‘I beg your pardon?!”

Louis paused and yelled for effect, “Hands off my bobeche!”

Harry blushed again, his cheeks turning the colour of his wine. “I am only eighty per cent that ridiculous, thank you very much!”

Niall cackled. 

Harry countered, “Meanwhile, Louis is strutting around the site like a little Napoleon, grunting about mortar and mullions and parapets, and I’m like, ‘we’re renovating a house here, not waging war!’” Harry rolled his eyes and carried on. “And you should see him in the morning Niall, hair in his eyes, hood over his head–you can’t even be afraid of him, he’s like a grumpy little toddler! So scruffy and squishy! Mind you, one time I tried to steal his tea, and you know he doesn’t even talk before he’s had tea, and I genuinely feared for my life. Despite the fact I’d made him tea every single morning before that!”

Louis looked at him through narrowed eyes. “I was actually going to murder you that morning. I had to go grab a coffee with Paul so I didn’t punt your stupid bloody oil infuser.”

To Louis incredulity, Harry had tried to nest in their disaster of a common bedroom, supposedly to counter it being perpetually full of building materials and Louis’ clothes everywhere. In the first week, Harry had introduced some scented candles, ‘to warm up the space a bit’, and Louis had been so mercilessly teased by Eric’s crew calling him ‘lover boy’ and singing _Sexual Healing_ when he walked past that he’d been forced to chuck them in the skip when Harry wasn’t looking. Harry had been convinced Jade had stolen them to put in their guest bedroom and he’d held a grudge for a full day.

Much to Niall’s enjoyment, they continued to rib each other until their meals came.

“So Niall, how are things going with you? Seeing anyone?” Louis wiggled his eyebrows, reaching to pet Niall’s hair. Niall had been dumped by his girlfriend the previous year and had been a bit of a lone wolf since. One-night stands had lost their appeal after the first few times and he’d sworn off Tinder after a couple of soul-destroying dates. 

“No one new, you obsessive,” Niall replied, swatting Louis away and popping a chip in his mouth. “Oi, geroff me!” He chewed and swallowed. “I hope you two have been behaving yourselves. And by you two, I mean you, Lou. Keeping your hands to yourself?” Niall didn’t wait to hear the answer.

“Don’t you dare mess with Liam–I see you flirting! He’s much too nice, and Perrie would cut your balls off if you messed with Soph. Jade seems cool. Actually, probably too cool for you…” Niall mused. He’d briefly met the other contestants at the season launch party.

“I’ve been a perfect angel, haven’t I, Haz? Fuck, I haven’t been celibate this long since I was seventeen!” Louis whined, slumping over the table dramatically.

“And guess there’s no one here for you, is there Haz?” Niall asked, giving Harry a knowing look.

Louis looked up at Harry, interest piqued.

“No, I guess not,” Harry replied, looking Louis right in the eye.

“Shame.” Niall shrugged, smiling, before launching back into his chicken parma.

**

Master ensuite and walk-in wardrobe week was their worst week since bathroom week. Louis had battled constantly with their plumbers and tilers and although Harry had chosen a stylish scheme in keeping with their main bathroom, they’d come last. It was a low point.

That Sunday evening, lying next to a snoring Harry in their guest bedroom where they slept, Louis pulled out his phone to text Niall.

_Came last this week :( was devo mate_, Louis wrote.

After a few seconds, Niall replied_, Sucks bro. Bet it was still killer_.

_We did good but waterproofing fucked up. Was finished too late to get the shower screen in :( :(_

_Chin up Lou, _Niall shot back._ Was nice seeking you boys last week. You and Haz seem to be gettin’ along?_

Louis thought about it honestly before he replied_. Yeh its ok_

_How’s sharing a bed going? _Niall asked, slapping on about eight winky emojis, and to Louis’ disgust, the dreaded eggplant.

_Apparently not as hot as you’re hoping mate, like sleeping with an octopus_

Louis and Harry both knew they’d be required to share a bed over the course of the show and indeed they’d squished together in a two-man tent on the back lawn for a week until they’d completed the guest bedroom. Thankfully, it had been mostly drama-free as they were always so exhausted each night that they usually fell asleep as soon as their heads hit the pillows. 

Niall replied as Louis predicted;_ Handsy then?_ _;) ;)_

_Take a cold shower mate haha_. Louis smiled at the screen, watching the speech bubble appear_._

_You guys were cute at the pub, all making fun of each other like kids in primary school._

_Yeah nah mate, _Louis wrote back, non-committal.  
  
_:D :D He so wants the D, _Niall replied immediately.  
  
_Omg stop, you’re embarrassing yourself!!_  
  
_I’m serious, he totally likes u! _

_We’re not having this conversation_. _Go to sleep, Niall_, Louis texted, adding a bunch of kissy faces as an afterthought. Stupid Niall. He threw his phone down on the bed right before it buzzed again.

Niall provided the last word;_ Ok lover boy, give Haz a kiss for me ;) _

Louis huffed, rolled over, and shut his eyes to sleep.

The following day, master bedroom week began in earnest. On Harry’s request, Louis and Eric had killed themselves again re-creating the coffered ceiling look from the living room and Harry had been away from site almost all week, checking and re-checking to make sure he’d purchased the perfect pieces.

Harry had been refining his plan for the master bedroom since the very first week. He’d told Louis early on, when they weren’t fighting, that he intended the master bedroom to be showpiece of the home, where all their design motifs would come together and Harry had been squirreling away bits of the styling budget here and there since week one to achieve it.

The bed itself was magnificent. Harry had chosen another velvet piece, this time a burnt orange king-size with enormous wings that wrapped around the bedsides he’d chosen. In many ways, it was the big, glamorous brother of the bed he’d chosen for the guest bedroom. Louis had baulked when he’d first seen it coming off the delivery truck but surprised himself when he’d realised he trusted Harry to bring it all together.

“Oh my god, Lou, take a look at this!” Harry squealed excitedly from where he sat, hunched over his phone. “My work friend Ellie sent it to me, says it’s from a Melbourne designer, guy named Julian Bunetta. Isn’t it perfect?”

Harry was staring at a picture of the most opulent pendant light Louis had ever seen.

“His studio is local but it’s like, eight grand,” he winced, disappointed.

Harry and Louis had eventually replaced the guest bedroom pendants with some understated vintage sconces following the judges’ comments. They’d bought a slightly larger pair to work in the master bedroom too, but Harry was still looking for that perfect lighting centrepiece to set off Louis’ ceiling and really make the room feel luxurious.

“Ah, next time buddy,” Louis smiled at him regretfully. It really was a beautiful piece and would have worked perfectly; Harry’s enthusiasm gave him no doubt. 

Harry shrugged sadly, “I’m gonna head out to the lighting shops, see if they have anything similar that might work. You’re ok here, yeah?”

Louis nodded, giving Harry a small smile, “Yeah no worries.”

When the parquetry was laid in the master bedroom, Louis had a few minutes for a quick lunch break. Normally, he’d grab a cup noodle or one of the pre-prepared meals provided by the show’s sponsor but today he thought he’d pop round to James and Jules’. If they had time for a break, Louis thought he might be able to be convinced to walk around the corner to grab sandwiches for all of them.

“Oi Jimbo!” he called as he walked in the door to their terrace.

“Up here mate!” came James’ voice from the upstairs landing. Louis bounded up the stairs to see he was lagging the pipes inside his bedroom walls–they were obviously a bit behind schedule.

“Hey, you on your own? Where is everybody?” Louis asked, looking around.

“I let the boys go out to grab a proper meal. They’re doing a bit of a stocktake before we get into it this arvo. We have to plaster today if we’re ever going to finish by the weekend. Jules has been at the shops pretty much all week this week.” He spoke while he gaffa-taped a strip of padded insulation around a large pipe.

“Yeah, Haz too. Got a grand plan. Can I give you a hand? I was just coming to see if you wanted me to grab you something. I’m heading to Subway.”

“Ugh,” James grunted, pulling a chunk of hair off his arm where the tape had stuck. “You want some company? I’m going nuts here, starting to think I need a break too. Let me just tell Mick I’m stepping out for a few. Meet you out the front.” Mick was Jules and James’ builder.

“How’s your week going anyway?” James asked when he reappeared, pulling a hoodie over his head.

“Can’t complain, feeling the pressure a bit this week though. I think Haz is kind of hanging our whole house on this room. Like he’s always a perfectionist but he wants this room to be _literally_ perfect.”

James nodded in agreement. “Jules is a bit the same. Chicks and their boudoirs, amirite?” Louis realised uncomfortably that Harry must be the chick, although he knew James meant nothing by it. “How are you guys going? Seem to be getting along better, eh?”

“Yeah. Payno gave me a bit of a talking to a few weeks back. Said I couldn’t expect Haz to leave me alone to do my thing if I didn’t trust him to do his. We kinda hit rock bottom after the guesthouse challenge.”

“Yeah shit, you guys were frosty,” James laughed. “You guys look after each other though? Trust is good, don’t get me wrong, but do you have his back? Does he have yours?” 

“Shit mate, we’re not married!” Louis barked. Harry had his back, but he wasn’t so sure about the other way around.

“Sure, I know, but this show’s too hard if you’re not actively working together. What I mean is, it’s not ‘his thing’ and ‘your thing’, right? The whole project belongs to both of you. I’ve seen him get on the tools, and he’s done more demo than all of us. He’s a good kid, and he obviously cares about you, so make sure you’re there for him too, eh?”

“Why is everyone always trying to give me advice about Harry?” Louis wondered out loud.

“Because you’re both great young blokes and you both have a lot of talent and if you actually worked as a partnership, not as individuals, you’d blow us all out of the water.”

“Why are you telling me then, don’t you want to win?” Louis huffed a laugh.

“I do, but I also want to see you boys do well because I’m nice, and we’re all rooting for you.” James winked, they’d reached the front door of the sandwich shop. “Now get in the bloody door and let me order my footlong!”

“Yes, Dad,” Louis rolled his eyes.

“That’s ‘Coach’ to you,” James replied, slapping Louis on the back, nearly knocking him over. James coached his kid’s dodgeball team. “I’m a state championship coach, Louis!” James had told him early on, and Louis hadn’t had the heart to tell him that was because only about ten kids in Australia actually played dodgeball.

Returning with their food, Louis took the stairs two at a time, up to their bedroom. Pulling out his laptop, he reviewed their budgets while he munched on his sandwich. Maybe, mulling James’ words over in his head, there was something he could do.

**

Saturday night rolled around far too quickly and they still had another coat of paint to do before they could bring in their furniture and style. Louis had sprayed the ceiling mid-week so they just had to finish the walls.

By now, week seven, they had painting down to an art. The first week, Louis had insisted on doing all the painting himself because Harry’s work didn’t meet his exacting standards. After almost killing himself completing it all, Louis had realised resisting help was ridiculous, but before he’d let Harry loose on the brushes, he’d forced him into a few masterclasses which resulted in Harry getting paint in his hair, _every single time_.

Finally, they’d become a well-oiled machine. Harry, using his immense wingspan was a gun on the roller, and Louis, with his fine hands and ability to squeeze himself into tiny corners, did the cutting-in.

Naturally, they had the tunes on, and Harry was singing into his roller and flapping his other arm about wildly.

“_Baby you light up my world like nobody else, the way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed, but when you smile at the ground it ain't hard to tell, you don't know, oh oh, you don't know you're beautiful!”_

“Harry can you turn that shit off please? My ears are bleeding! I can’t focus!” Louis begged, flipping his hair reflexively. True to form, Harry insisted painting shirtless was the best way to stay clean, which Louis supposed made some sense, but he was already having trouble concentrating without Harry grooving half-naked in his low-slung jeans right next to him. 

Harry burst out with laughter, “What was that, music snob? I can’t hear you!” He motioned to his ear and shook his head in pretend confusion.

“HARRY! CONCENTRATE!” Louis shouted over the music, trying not to laugh. Harry continued to flap about, doing a demented sort of dance.

“_If only you saw what I can see, you'll understand why I want you so desperately, right now I'm looking at you and I can't believe, you don't know, you don't know you're beautiful!”_ Harry continued, teasing.

“Um, I do know I’m beautiful, but thanks,” Louis deadpanned. “_You’d_ be a lot more bloody beautiful if you used your Lurch arms to finish rolling!” He pointed to the wall with his brush.

But Harry wasn’t done, swaying over to Louis in time with the music, grabbing the paintbrush still in Louis’ hand.

Harry paused in time with the song. “_That's what makes you beautiful!_” He sang out, dragging a thick, wet stripe of paint up Louis’ chin to his nose.

Louis was speechless, and he literally couldn’t speak without getting paint in his mouth.

“Oh no, you got paint on yourself, clumsy!” Harry tsked, clearly enjoying himself.

“Hey, why don’t you go have a shower, I’ll finish up here,” Harry said, calmer now, although he was still breathing hard from laughing. nk

“You sure?” Louis had wiped his face with his jumper sleeve, but he still had a huge white smear across his features and in his stubble.

“Yeah. You go, me and my Lurch arms don’t need you.” Harry winked.

Fifteen minutes later, looking soft and sleepy in trackies and a fresh hoodie, Louis reappeared. Harry had finished the walls and room was starting to take shape. 

“Looking schmick already, isn’t it?” Louis asked, yawning. It was midnight.

“Hey, why don’t you go have a nap? I’ll wake you when I need help with the bed. I can use an electric screwdriver by myself, don’t you know?” Harry stuck his tongue out at Louis.

“Nah, don’t be silly,” Louis yawned again, “I’m good.” 

“You’re the one being silly. Go sleep. I’ll wake you up in a few hours.”

Later, when Harry gently shook him awake and he rolled over, Louis almost had a panic attack. His phone showed five-am.

“Harry, what the fuck, it’s morning! You were meant to wake me!” Louis sat up and threw on his glasses. He pushed his hair back, shoved his small feet into his boots and launched himself off the bed and down the hall.

“Hang on, Lou–” Harry paused, still sitting on the bed. He smiled to himself. Wait for it…

“Oh my god,” Harry heard from down the hall.

Harry rounded the corner where Louis stood in the doorway to their master bedroom. “I told you to hang on!”

“Haz, just–wow.” For the second time that night, Louis was speechless, because _Harry had finished the room. _

Everything was in place, from the huge velvet bed, to the shining sconces, to the luxurious white sheer curtains from ceiling to floor. Harry had sourced sophisticated artwork which Louis hadn’t even seen yet and he’d had them uniformly framed and hung them in formation himself. Nestled around the heritage fireplace that they’d refurbished with even more marble were gorgeous ink-blue armchairs. Every pillow and cushion and throw rug on the bed was meticulously ruched and scrunched to give the impression of perfect ease. Louis thought it looked so glamorous but also so comfortable. He wanted to crawl up into that huge bed and stay there forever.

“I can’t believe you did this by yourself. It’s fucking incredible, Haz.” Harry had even cleaned and vacuumed. They were done, completely finished, and Harry had let him sleep all the way through it. Louis wanted to kiss him with gratitude but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the room.

“To be fair, Eric popped in on the way home from the pub to help me with the bed. He said you probably deserved a sleep,” Harry shuffled his feet. “And shit, look at your ceiling! It’s stunning!”

Louis just stared at him. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Just say it looks nice, Lou. Now, do you want to go back to sleep, or do you wanna get up and look at plans for the outdoor space, we could go get breakfast, or…” Harry trailed off.

“Actually…” Louis started.

“Oh no, what?” Harry looked concerned.

“Why don’t you sleep for a bit and I’ll just give everything a quick once over? I just want to make sure the doorhandle doesn’t squeak, you know me…”

Harry groaned, “Louis it’s fine, come on! Come sleep with me,” and, uh, that wasn’t _quite_ what he’d meant.

Louis didn’t acknowledge it. “You go on Haz, I’ll be half an hour. Promise.” It broke Louis’ heart that Harry thought he was checking his work, or worse, changing things around, but this was important, and he wanted it to be a surprise.

At eight, an hour before tools-down, Louis woke Harry from a deep sleep, like he’d had done to him only a few hours before.

“Earth to Harry,” Louis whispered, rousing him. “Quick, I have something to show you. But you can’t peek.”

Harry roused himself out of bed with a grunt.

“Cover your eyes. Hold my hand,” Louis instructed, leading him down the hallway back to the master bedroom.

“Ok, open,” Louis whispered when they stopped walking.

Hung from the ceiling was Harry’s dream pendant. Spotting it, he squeaked, putting his hands over his mouth, looking from Louis to the light fixture and back again.

“How did you–? Oh my god Lou, its fucking _incredible_!” Harry whispered, echoing Louis’ words from earlier.

“I knew you liked it so I did some sums, and we’ll have to be frugal for the outdoor areas, I’m talking like some pavers and a couple of lawn chairs, maybe a pot plant...” Harry wrinkled his nose, “…but your mate Julian Buni– Bunet–, whatever-his-name-is, was nice when I went to pick it up and he did us a good deal. And I thought, go big or go home, right?” Louis smiled shyly up at Harry.

“Louis–”

“And I wanted you to have it. I mean, even it’s not _for_ _you_ for you, but...yeah.”

“Lou, thank you. It’s _perfect_.” And it was. For one it was massive, a slim black frame supporting a host of different-sized baubles, like misshapen glass planets orbiting a giant black sea-urchin starburst. It was dramatic yet whimsical, and when the morning sunlight shone on it, it sent little flecks of golden light around the room.

Louis wrapped his arm around Harry shoulder. It was a little awkward, what with the difference in their heights, but both stood for several moments as if it was the cosiest place in the world, admiring their handiwork.

“Now, did I hear you say something about breakfast? Sausage and Egg McMuffin?” Louis asked, and Harry groaned. “Come on, darlin’. Maybe they can put some avo in yours.” Louis laughed, leading Harry out and closing the door to their perfect bedroom behind them.

Harry would normally have been more nervous before judging but after his all-nighter working, short nap, and greasy breakfast, he just wanted to crawl into bed, and the harsh lights of the studio weren’t making it any easier. The wait to hear their comments felt interminable.

“And finally, onto the boys!” Scott Cam began genially. “Your bedroom certainly made a good first impression. The first thing the judges saw coming into your room was that incredible bed…”

Harry steading himself on Louis, gripping at the juncture between his shoulder and neck. Louis shot him a quick smile and placed a loose hand on his lower back.

“…And then they noticed that pendant. Neale said it had so much personality!”

“He should have named it after Louis,” Harry muttered to no one in particular.

“_Oi!_” came the objection to his left.

Scotty continued, “They all felt the room was very glamorous but also very approachable. They loved your use of colour, with Darren saying despite the neutral tones, the room was still visually interesting. He also said it felt _very romantic_.”

Scotty smiled up at them cheekily and Louis huffed out a nervous laugh. This was obviously going in a good direction. “Can I keep going, gents?” Scotty asked, and they nodded, Louis licking his lips nervously.

“Neale loved the scale of the bed and said the texture and layering of the bed dressing was _perfect_. Then he had a lie down on it–he said it was blissful!” The other teams laughed.

“Shaynna congratulated you on the perfect execution that they’ve come to recognise is a hallmark of yours. She said it was clever the way you’d re-introduced the coffered ceiling and the subtle touches of timber and marble which have become your signature. She said ‘these boys obviously know what they’re doing!’”

“Finally, Darren thought it was the most well-appointed master bedroom,” Scotty enunciated for effect, “that he’d _ever_ seen on The Block, so well done.”

“But…?” Louis began.

“That’s it!” Scott said. “No buts!” Louis breathed a huge sigh of relief.

There was a round of applause and Harry and Louis squeezed each other a little tighter.

After that, it was time for the scores. A feature of the show was an elaborate score board–notionally crafted by Scott Cam himself each year–that only showed two judges’ scores at a time, so that the final result wasn’t revealed until Scotty marked down the third judge’s score and flipped the board so that all three scores, and the total, were visible. 

“…The Double-Js...” Scotty muttered as he calculated their total, standing behind the scoreboard. “…Perrie and Jade…” more scratching of chalk, “…Harry and Louis.”

He flipped the scoreboard upwards, “First place for master bedroom week, and our first perfect score of the season goes to…Harry and Louis!”

Before Harry could even turn to look, he felt Louis launch himself into his arms, Louis’ breath in his hair, arms flung around his neck and his legs around his hips, pressed close. It felt surreal, Harry thought, the rush of joy that flooded his chest. Harry swiftly wedged his hands under Louis’ legs to keep him up, and swung them both around to laugh with the other teams. Louis whooped and punched the air. 

“You little bloody ripper!” Louis shouted. “We did it,” he whispered in Harry’s ear, intimately enough so the mics wouldn’t pick it up. He slapped him on the back enthusiastically a few times before sliding from Harry’s arms. Harry missed the weight and warmth of his body immediately.

“We celebrating then?” Louis asked, as he unlocked their car.

“Would I be a massive dork if I said I kind of just wanted to go home, tidy our room a bit and have the longest nap?” Harry asked.

“Yes,” Louis replied flatly before laughing, “But I wouldn’t blame you. If you want low-key, Paul and James mentioned they might put on a barbecue in the Double-Js’ yard?”

“Yeah, that sounds nice actually.”

“Look at our Harold, copping two meals of meat and bread in one day, how ever will you manage?” Louis chided.

“I dunno, guess we can all loosen up a bit, eh Lou?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Louis smiled, raising his eyebrows. They were both on cloud nine still.

“Oh, nothing,” Harry teased. “Maybe we can focus on you eating more vegetables after the show.”

Everyone had tumbled out from their houses to meet in the middle of the street, cast, their teams and a few available crew. The girls had macgyvered some loose plumbing materials into a game of quoits; Perrie was playing on a team with Paul against Jade and Clo. Harry heard a raucous yell resound as Perrie landed another piece of tubing. Meanwhile, James manned the barbecue and Jules passed out drinks from the esky while chatting to Keith and Dan.

Liam and Sophia had come last for their master bedroom and Sophia was a bit sore about the judges calling her styling ‘tacky’ despite a perfectly reasonable score of 25. 

“Eh,” Sophia shrugged, “everything they hated is easily fixed, just soft furnishings and my artwork. Maybe you can give me some tips!” She clinked the bottle-neck of her beer against Harry’s. He smiled at her and hoped it said ‘sure, no problem’ but also ‘you don’t need my help, you’re doing great’, depending on which one Sophia wanted to hear more.

“I can’t wait to see yours later,” she told Harry. Each week, the teams toured each other’s finished rooms in an elaborate set-piece where producers encouraged them to compare their scores, complain if they felt they’d been cheated, sympathise with their fellow cast members if they felt they’d been wronged. Harry was always complementary even in the most underwhelming of rooms; Louis was Louis–he didn’t pull any punches.

“What _are_ those two doing?” Sophia asked, looking over Harry’s shoulder.

Harry peered around. “Oh, not this again,” he groaned.

Sometime during week three, Louis had pranked Liam–the old ‘ice cream tub full of water propped over the door’ trick. When Liam had gone to use their bathroom, he’d received a litre of cold water in the face. Liam had gotten Louis back later that week with two paint trays full of icy water by the bed so when Louis had gotten up in the freezing cold morning, he’d stuck his two socked feet straight in. Since then, the pranks had devolved into a standard water fight where they’d use any available opportunity to soak each other, Liam with the hose, Louis with his bucket of cleaning suds. And it looked like Louis had lowered the bar even further that afternoon by dumping the remains of a bottle of water straight onto Liam’s head.

“Motherfucker!” Liam had winced as the water rolled down the back of his t-shirt. He’d jumped up and was now chasing Louis down the driveway. Liam was strong but Louis was fast; he’d run up behind him, slap Liam on the ass and speed off, hysterical with laughter. This was the flirting Niall had been referring to.

“That doesn’t bother you?” Sophia asked, tipping her drink towards them. She was smiling, so it obviously didn’t bother _her_, but then Harry felt stupid for even thinking she might be bothered. After all, Liam was straight, their relationship was solid, and Louis wouldn’t ever mess with someone in a relationship.

“No?” Harry played dumb.

“Sure about that babe?”

Harry shrugged but didn’t answer. It wasn’t that he wanted to be in Liam’s position _specifically_, but it did irk him, he just couldn’t pinpoint why.

After kicking on at James and Jules’ until early evening, Harry and Louis headed off to bed early. On Sunday evenings, Louis usually reviewed their plans for the following week, checked in with Eric and gave his sister or Niall a call. Harry would try and tidy their room, fit in some yoga, browse Pinterest, and if he felt particularly energised, go for a short jog with Liam. But this evening, still elated by their room win and with a light buzz on board from the afternoon beers, they just wanted to enjoy the moment.

Louis had taken his contacts out and had his glasses back on, the covers pulled up to his neck as he played with his phone. After a very brief tidy so their room wasn’t a total pigsty, Harry had lit a freshly purchased candle and placed it on the windowsill above the bed and Louis had to admit that while it was a little awkward–and a bit mind-boggling–being in a candlelit bedroom, in the same bed as a hot dude that he _wasn’t_ intending to bang, it was also kind of nice. It was only seven-pm but they had the lights off and the blinds closed, so the candle cast the room in a lovely warm glow.

After the excitement of the day, Louis felt his eyes drooping. He stashed his phone underneath his pillow and turned to face Harry.

“You did good today, Haz.” Because he was so self-assured, Louis sometimes forgot that Harry was a little younger than he was. Tonight, especially, he looked so nice tucked up in bed, soft curls falling around his face.

Harry smiled, “Thanks. You too.”

“I don’t know what I did to deserve what you did for me this morning,” Louis continued. He didn’t really know what he was saying, just that he needed to say something. He felt like a dick for how he’d treated Harry early on; after all, Harry was just a harmless kid. A fucking sexy, gorgeous, lovely kid, who never stopped working and did nice things for people and got excited over console tables and who could hold Louis up in his strong arms.

_Jesus_. Louis checked himself, maybe he’d more to drink than he thought. Maybe Harry’s candle was noxious and he was delirious.

“Me? It was nothing,” Harry said softly, “just let you sleep a bit. What about what you did for me? That was so nice, Lou. Thank you.”

“Don’t even mention it. It was what the room needed, and it was worth it.” Harry nodded, and Louis couldn’t discern whether he’d said the right thing or the wrong thing. There was no reason for tension between them, none more than usual anyway, but Louis felt it anyway.

Harry rolled onto his back and stared into space. Louis just watched him.

After a while, Harry turned his head to look at Louis, who was fading fast.

“Lou? You awake?”

“Hmm?” Louis opened his eyes.

“Why don’t you call me ‘mate’?” Harry asked.

“What?” What a weird question, Louis thought. “’Course I do.”

“No, you don’t,” Harry insisted. “You never do. You call everyone else ‘mate’, Niall, Liam, all the boys. You even call Perrie ‘mate’ sometimes.”

“I don’t know, Haz. I like to call you by your name, it’s a nice name.” It wasn’t a lie but Louis didn’t think Harry would be satisfied by that. “Maybe because we weren’t mates at the start?”

“You called the kitchen guy ‘mate’, I don’t think that’s the reason.” Harry was irritable.

“Do you _want_ me to call you ‘mate’?” 

“I don’t know. You don’t treat me like you treat the other guys.”

Louis felt his chest tighten. “I know, Haz, and I’m really sorry for how much of a dick I was, seriously, I’m embarrassed. If he knew, Niall would have been very disappointed in me,” Louis tried for humour but it fell flat. Instead, he grabbed Harry’s wrist where it lay between them and hoped it said, _believe me_.

“Are we mates now?” Harry asked.

“Of course we are!” On this Louis had no doubt. Even if it was a little unorthodox, he was sad that their friendship wasn’t as obvious to Harry. “I don’t let my mortal enemies paint my face!” Louis laughed.

“Mortal enemies? Is that what we were?” Harry snorted, making the whole concept sound unbelievably stupid.

“It’s not like we got along, Harold.” Louis raised his eyebrows.

“Sure, but I never disliked you. I always wanted to be your friend.” It was so innocent and lovely that Louis didn’t even have a comeback.

“Since when?” Louis asked, incredulous. 

“Since we met,” Harry replied in earnest. “Why do you think I invited you over to do stuff, even when Niall was out? I knew you and Niall hung out anyway so I needed a reason to get you over to the house. I figured you could teach me some of your handyman tricks so when you did come over to visit, the three of us could just chill, rather than you doing us favours. Didn’t you ever wonder why we always had so much stuff to fix?”

At Harry’s words, Louis’ blood ran cold. He released Harry’s wrist, shocked to realise he’d still been holding it. He was _such_ an asshole. This whole time he’d thought that Harry just had him over to antagonise him, that Niall asked him over when he was at work to get Louis and Harry to place nice. But all this time Harry, stupid lovely Harry, had been trying to be_ friends_. And Louis had acted like a petulant child, and a bully.

“Do you still want to be mates with me now you know how much of a fuck-up I am?” Louis asked weakly.

Harry paused and looked Louis straight in the eye. “To be honest, I–”

Louis felt sick. He needed air. He launched himself out of bed, grabbing his phone from under the pillow. “Hold that thought. I need to go to the loo.” It wasn’t believable, he had the bladder of a healthy young man, but he didn’t stick around long enough to see Harry’s reaction.

“Lou, wait!” Harry called, sitting up, but Louis was already out the door.

Louis barrelled out to the car and locked himself inside. It was only eight or so but the street was quiet and it felt like the middle of the night. When he dialled the number on his phone, the call hooked into the car’s sound system. He dumped his phone in the cupholder and hugged his knees to his chest, a tight squeeze in the driver’s seat. The call connected.

“Lou-ehhhh! What can I do for you mate?” Niall’s voice boomed out of the car speakers.

“_Niall,_” he whined.

“What’s the matter with you?”

“_Niall…_” Louis repeated pathetically; he didn’t know how to ask about a feeling he couldn’t recognise.

“…I think I’ve been a bit of an idiot,” he finished weakly.

“Alert the media. Mate, you’ve been an idiot for twenty-seven years.”

“Not helping, Ni.”

“Out with it then, what’s wrong, what’s happened?”

“So, like… Harry? I think I might have judged him a bit… hastily?”

“In what way?” Niall was calm. Niall was a good mate.

“Ugh, he’s an actual delight. And I’m an asshole. And he wanted to build the shed to be friends but I just laughed at him. And now we’re on this bloody life-changing rollercoaster ride together and he’ll always know what a dick I was and he’s just so nice, and cute and _god_, he’s so _hot_ and I think I popped a semi when he was saying _thanking me,_ for fuck’s sake, and I’m kind of losing it.”

Niall waited a beat for Louis to catch his breath. “You like him, don’t you.” He phrased it like a statement, not a question.

Louis paused. “Yes.”

“Like proper feelings, like him?” Niall continued.

“Yes.”

Niall brightened, “Well what’s the problem then? You like him, he likes you–”

“Wait, what?” Louis interrupted feebly.

“I told you this. He likes you.”

“No, no, you said ‘_he wants the D’_”. Louis wasn’t coping.

Louis could almost hear Niall shrug before he spoke. “Yeah, same thing.”

“It’s not the same thing!” Louis hissed.

“I dunno mate,” Niall sighed, “stop being a tit and just be nice to him. It’s just _Harry_, he’s easy to please. Now if you don’t mind, there’s Sunday night footy on, and I’ve got a bet on the Tiges to beat the Blues. Good night Louis.”

“Wait, Ni–” Louis cried, but Niall had already hung up. 

Louis realised too late that because he’d had his little outburst in the car, the entire conversation had been caught on camera. Fantastic, he thought, it was a cherry on top of the disaster of his life for the past two hours. It was freezing outside now and he shivered as he returned inside, not knowing where to begin and what to say to patch things up with Harry.

As it happened, Louis needn’t have worried as Harry was fast asleep, arms and legs outstretched towards the middle of the bed. Looking down on his elongated frame, Louis briefly thought it would be so nice to crawl in beside him, wrap Harry’s big arms around him and let that do the talking for him. But he couldn’t, so he didn’t, gently shifting Harry’s arms and legs back over onto his side of the bed before lying down and falling into a fitful sleep.

**

Louis hadn’t been joking about their budget situation for back and front-yard week. Their space was small, all the backyards were, just enough room for a deck, a tidy patch of lawn, and some garden beds. In week two, Louis had secured the services of a top-notch landscaper and together they’d been preparing plans for ages. Since the bedroom blow-out though, they’d been forced to do some reassessing.

“Yeah look mate, we can certainly tone it down a bit, use cheaper materials in your retaining walls, do more lawn instead of the built-in bench seat...” The landscaper, Dave, wasn’t wildly impressed at their new budget situation but he’d worked on The Block before and he was accustomed to this sort of thing happening.

“Let me do some drawings and I’ll see what we can do.”

Louis nodded, “Thanks mate, appreciate it.”

Harry sat on the crumbling back steps as he ate his Vegemite toast and drank his tea, watching Louis and Dave-the-landscaper talk. It was crazy, he thought, that their journey was almost coming to an end. They’d worked so hard, their place looked so good, and they were so proud of what they’d done together. The only problem was that Harry still didn’t know where he and Louis stood. 

Harry had minimal shopping to do for outdoor week and his options were few with their budget, so he’d made his furniture and styling purchases on Tuesday morning without much fuss. Since then he’d kept his head clear helping Dave’s boys out with labour; digging trenches, laying turf, wheeling bags of concrete from the delivery truck to the lawn while Louis hovered about, buzzing in the crew’s ears, managing money, people, time.

**

“Half an hour to go!” Shelley called, trying to stop herself from laughing. Harry and Louis were halfway through the final challenge of the competition.

Their task had been to build and decorate a cubby house for patients at the Melbourne Children’s Hospital. They’d had to choose a theme, paint, decorate and style their cubby. A group of kids currently staying at the hospital would judge their favourite.

“Lou, you need to wait!” Harry laughed, as Louis attempted to nick off for the twentieth time today. The twist of this challenge was that they were velcro’d by the ankles and had to do everything together.Apparently, Louis wasn’t quick on the uptake.

“Fucking fu–, I mean, FUDGE!” Louis swore, crawling onto the ground where his foot was stuck to Harry’s, outstretching his arm to try and reach his strewn paintbrush. The gaggle of kids were in hysterics watching all ten of them move around like awkward eight-legged animals.

“The boys have an advantage because Harry’s so tall! He has better reach!” Perrie called from nearby.

“Yeah but Lou is tiny, so it averages out!” Harry returned.

“I’m right here and I can hear you, you know!” Louis tried to sound indignant but Harry could see his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Let me get my brush, Haz, then you can go back to screwing on that awning.”

Harry walked over a couple of steps so Louis could reach his paintbrush. “Ok, now over to the paint!” They shuffled over to the stand of available paints, Harry choosing a bubble-gum pink–they’d chosen an ice-cream parlour as their cubby theme. “Ok back again!”

Louis scrunched his face up, his tongue sticking out of his mouth while he tried to manoeuvre his body into a shape that would allow him to paint stripes on the back of the cubby while Harry continued at the front. It was like Twister, Louis thought, not that he’d played that sober without taking items of clothing off since he was a kid.

“Ok Lou, over to get cushions!”

“Gimme just one more sec to finish this….and done! Let’s go!” Louis replied, dumping his brush into the tin.

“Ten minutes ‘til tools-down!” came the call from Shelley.

“Shit! We gotta move. Can we run?” Harry asked.

“We can try, you gotta wait for me though, your legs are like stilts.”

“How about this?” Harry wrapped a firm arm around Louis’ waist, smiling, and Louis felt a zing up his spine. “Ready?”

Their solo three-legged race wasn’t smooth by any means but Louis delighted in looking ridiculous and making the kids laugh and laugh when he pretended to fall over and Harry dramatically feigned being angry at him, giving him a shove on the ground with his free foot.

When the clock ticked down, they had a respectable ice-cream parlour complete with pastel coloured stools and polka dot curtains.

“So today,” Shelley started, “we asked you to build a dream cubby for some kids who are doing it tough. We wanted you to embrace your inner child, get your hands dirty, take your cues from our young friends here,” Shelley gestured to the group of littlies standing with their parents, “be bold and have fun!”

“Now let’s see what our judges think!” Like a wave, the kids flooded into the cubbies one by one, sitting on the chairs, handling the goodies inside, imagination on overdrive.

“Which one do you like, Sarah?” Shelley asked a little girl with a feeding tube. “The pink one,” she replied shyly, ducking around her dad’s leg to avoid the attention. Louis mouthed ‘thank you Sarah!’ and gave her two thumbs up.

“What about you, Marcus?” Shelley asked, and Marcus pointed to James and Jules’ blue space ship cubby.

After five minutes, a verdict was reached, the kids taking their deliberating role very seriously.

“And the winner of an extra five thousand dollars to go to their backyard is…Paul and Clo!” Paul and Clo had created a red shop cubby, proving that with kids, the simple way is often the best way.

“Noooo!” Harry cried, shaking his fist to the sky, before sinking down onto his knees, then straight onto his face in the grass. The kids dissolved into stitches again, a few running over to clamber over him. He rolled around on the ground for a few seconds, howling and carrying on, before dumping two little ones back on their feet. He placed a massive hand on the head of a little boy and gave another girl a fist bump.

Louis could only look on and smile despite feeling like his heart might burst out of his chest. 

**

“Hey Haz, are you able to start on those boards? We’re gonna crack on with the deck after lunch,” Dave asked on the sunny afternoon of the Thursday. Outdoor week stopped for no man. 

Harry shrugged, “No problem.”

It was hot outside and Harry had long since stripped off his hoodie. He hadn’t seen Louis in a bit but he’d last been spotted on the phone in the kitchen arguing with the woman at the barbecue shop.

Before The Block, Harry had enjoyed exercise, certainly his yoga and the odd run on the treadmill. But Liam’s influence, along with eight weeks of physical labour, had done wonders for his body. He had defined abs now, despite all the junk food.

He felt vain flexing his arms in the mirror but for the first time in his life he felt strong, like he could do anything he put his mind to. Where before he’d been slim and fit, he’d felt like a gangly kid. He was embarrassed to think it but he felt more man than boy now, although he didn’t know if that was more of a mental than physical transformation. He briefly indulged a fantasy of throwing Louis over his shoulder, saying something ludicrously manly like _me Tarzan, you Jane_, and carrying him off to their master bedroom to ravish him. He giggled to himself as he loaded a bale of decking boards onto his shoulder; apparently, he hadn’t lost all childish instincts.

On the way back from his second trip, Harry paused for a few minutes in the shade of the trailer of the truck. He still hadn’t seen Louis for ages and if he didn’t know him better, he might have thought he’d skived off for a nap. Sweat ran down his back and he lifted the corner of his singlet to wipe his forehead. That was when he saw him.

Louis was leaning against the back fence, a half-eaten apple drawn to his mouth, but it was like he’d forgotten how to eat. Louis was staring right at him. No, wait–he wasn’t even looking at his face, he was looking at his chest, his belly, his crotch–_Louis was checking him out_. Harry was frozen; didn’t know if he should move; wave, or call out? Maybe he should flex his abs, put on a show? Before he could make a decision, Louis snapped out of it, looking straight into Harry’s eyes. Straight away, Louis knew he’d been busted. He coughed, finally remembering his apple. Hell, Harry thought, maybe he’d still been chewing piece before becoming so distracted.

Harry tried to help him save face, bending over to pick up another bundle of timber but he was immediately self-conscious. He blushed and arched his back just the littlest bit, hoping Louis’ eyes were still on him, but when he turned to descend the ramp, Louis was gone. That afternoon, Louis behaved normally, outdoor week progressed without a similar incident and Harry wondered if he’d imagined the moment completely.

Their outdoor areas received good scores, the judges calling them sophisticated and restrained, and Louis joked that that was code for basic.

After outdoor judging, Louis wondered if Harry might try and continue their conversation of the week before, the one that culminated in Louis freaking out on the phone, confessing his feelings about Harry to Niall in the car. They’d been friendly since, much the same as before really, but Louis still knew there were things left unsaid between them. In the end, they’d left the studio, gone to the pub with Papa Paul and Mama Clo and come home; Harry to his yoga, Louis to his final set of plans and a phone call to his sister, and that had been that.

Second guest bedroom and re-do room week was the final official week of their renovation, besides repairing defects. On Monday morning, Louis ran Harry through his Gantt chart for the week and Harry showed Louis his vision board and swatches as he made them both tea and toast. Gone was the tense urgency of the early weeks when every minute was critical and every choice second‑guessed. Now, they trusted each other’s instincts and supported the other’s decisions, even when things didn’t go to plan. Louis was consultative and Harry’s confidence grew every day.

The judges were satisfied with Harry and Louis’ second guest bedroom and redone ensuite, calling it another sophisticated room in a beautifully designed home that would surely attract a lot of interest from buyers. For Harry, the highlight of the judging had been when Louis had pulled him in close and whispered ‘well done’ in his ear when they’d received their scores. Also, to Harry’s satisfaction, Sophia and Liam picked up the win for their second guest bedroom and redone master bedroom, the one the judges had dubbed ‘tacky’. Harry had given Sophia a warm hug as they’d left the studio.

“It was so nice seeing everyone so happy and proud this morning,” Harry told Louis that Sunday as he tidied their bedroom for the last time and Louis reviewed their invoices.

Louis removed his glasses and placed them in his lap. “Yeah, its going to be sad to say goodbye to everyone. Even with all the stress, it’s been so much fun, like there’s no one I don’t want to stay in touch with.”

“I know how you feel,” Harry said sadly. His feelings of accomplishment were outweighed by his sense of dread at having to leave them all behind, leave his and Louis’ little bubble for it to become a distant memory. He tried to imagine scenarios where they could just go on solving problems and creating beautiful things together but sadly, none of them seemed to stand up to any scrutiny.

Sunday after final judging was the famous end‑of‑renovation dinner. It wasn’t anything special, just a private room booked out at the local the pub where they could have a proper meal and a few drinks, celebrate a job well done and try and relax about their efforts to try and win a life-changing sum of money. Throughout the next week, they’d be able to tinker with their rooms, and Keith and Dan would deliver a defect list to each team of required repairs. However, tonight was about celebrating their accomplishments and being in the moment, and Louis knew Liam had a moment planned.

As Liam and Sophia had argued, made up, celebrated, and commiserated, worked together and driven each other mad throughout the past nine weeks, the inevitability of their future together had sharpened in Liam’s mind. A couple of weeks ago, he’d taken Perrie, Jules, and for some unknown reason, _Louis_, ring shopping, and he’d picked out a beautiful white‑gold, 18‑carat diamond ring. Although Louis had been dying to tell Harry about the plot, Louis knew Harry couldn’t keep a secret to save his life, and so Louis was so looking forward to Harry’s reaction when Liam got down on one knee.

Louis was in fine form that evening, talking Scotty’s ear off about Eric’s chippies’ skills on their two coffered ceilings. Every so often, Harry would catch his eye and Louis would flash him a winning smile and carry on his conversation without skipping a beat.

“Hey Scotty!” Liam shook his hand vigorously in greeting. “Lou, can I grab you for a sec?” He tore Louis away by the shoulder of his denim jacket.

“Mate, I’m shitting myself!” Liam whispered frantically. “What if she says no?”

“What?” Louis replied incredulously, “why would she say no? You’re you, and you’re amazing and you’ve known each other for a million years and you’ve talked about it. She’s a done deal!”

Louis continued, seeing Liam’s terrified face. “Mate, I don’t know shit about relationships but I’ve never seen two people more ready for this than you two. You’re made for each other. Now stop being a pussy and go make your grand gesture!” He gave Liam a little shove towards Sophia.

Louis heard the distinctive _ding ding ding_ of a knife against a wine glass and a hush came over the room. He made a beeline toward Harry in the crowd. 

“Ah, thanks everyone,” Liam began. “I don’t want to interrupt the party for too long, so I’ll be quick.”

“Soph and I have had the absolute experience of a lifetime with all of you, and no matter what happens on auction day, nothing will take away the fun we’ve had, getting to know everyone, working with you, sometimes getting along, sometimes not so much.” The group laughed and Liam chuckled, looking down into his pint, his brown eyes warm.

He continued, “Which is why I’m honoured to have you all here tonight for what I’m about to do.” He took Sophia’s hand in his, her other hand still clutching her glass of Sauvignon Blanc.

“Soph. When we met, I wasn’t much. A shy little weedy kid with floppy hair, pretending to be more confident than I felt. But, for some reason that I’ll never understand, you took a chance on me and since then, I’ve counted myself the luckiest guy alive. Sophia Smith, you are beautiful, you are fun, and you are kind, and you’ve been the best partner this kid could ever have asked for.”

You could have heard a pin drop. Liam went on.

“I know that, in life, there are some challenges we choose to take on, like this one,” he chuckled, “others that are thrown our way. But I know that with you by my side, we can handle anything. I promise that no one will love you and cherish you more, or work harder to make you happy, than I will, every single day that you’ll have me. Which is why I wanted to ask you…” Liam got down on one knee.

“…if you’d do me the honour of letting me be your husband.”

Louis looked from Liam to Sophia, who now had tears in her eyes.

“Of course I will,” she replied breathlessly. Finally able to put her wine down, she drew him off the floor and into her arms, laughing, “I can’t believe you planned all this!”

“Shit, I forgot to present you the ring!” Liam exclaimed, hastily pulling the ring box out of his jacket pocket and placing the ring on her finger. She pulled him in for a kiss, displaying her newly bejewelled finger as she held his face.

“She said yes!” Liam boomed, and the crowd roared in congratulations and applause.

Louis looked furtively to Harry at his side, and predictably, he was in tears too. Louis enjoyed watching him for a few more moments before drawing him into a hug.

“Aww, come here Harold, you big sap.”

“It’s just so lovely, and I’m so happy for them,” Harry sniffled into Louis’ shoulder. Louis pulled back, tucking a strand of Harry’s hair behind his ear.

“Did you know he was going to do that?” Harry asked.

“…Maybe,” Louis replied cheekily, eyes down.

Harry was outraged, “Why didn’t you tell me!”

“Because I didn’t want to ruin how cute you’re being now.” Louis ruffled Harry’s hair and Harry blushed. 

Later, when Harry had wandered off to talk to Sophia about wedding plans, Louis found himself surrounded by Liam and Dan. 

“You know I owe it all to you, mate,” Liam said to Dan, clinking their glasses together. Years ago, Dan had proposed to his girlfriend while they were contestants on the show. Because he was a good builder and had good chemistry with the foreman, Keith, a few years later, Dan had been brought back on as an additional foreman.

“There’s something about this show that makes you feel that if you can get through this together, you can get through anything,” Dan said wistfully. “That and its hard to beat declaring your love on national television. Brownie points for years, mate.” He clinked their glasses again.

Liam nodded enthusiastically, “Like, Soph has always impressed me, she’s an amazing woman, but she’s been my rock these past few months and I’m so fucking proud of her. I’m just so glad I had the opportunity to do it here with all you guys.”

“Oh, turn it up, mate,” Louis interrupted loudly, “you know Dan’s not going to reduce your defect list just because you’re a suck-up!”

“Mate, The Block proposals–they’re becoming a tradition!” Dan joined in, wiggling his eyebrows at Louis. “Careful, you’ll be next!”

Louis rolled his eyes. “You guys are terrible. I’m going to the bar.” And off he went.

“Don’t worry Lou,” Liam called behind him, “we’ll sort you out!” Bloody Liam, Louis thought, he was far too in touch with his feelings, and now also Louis’ feelings, apparently. 

Alone at the bar, Louis felt an unfamiliar pang of jealousy hearing Liam talk about what he and Sophia had; it had been a long time since he’d wanted that kind of thing. He let the feeling settle to see what it turned into but all his heart could latch onto was Harry; Harry who was sweet, and hardworking, and funny, Harry who cried during marriage proposals. He thought of Liam’s words; maybe it _was_ time to sort himself out.

That evening at home felt much like it had the night they’d won master bedroom week. Harry was high on love, recounting Sophia’s plans for her dress, the flowers, the cake. Louis pretended to listen as he lay on his back with his arm over his eyes but he couldn’t stop all the conflicting thoughts swimming around in his head. Harry had lit the damn candle again and it was flickering persistently in his peripheral vision. He could smell Harry’s shampoo and hear Harry’s voice and feel his weight shift in the bed as he talked and his brain just wouldn’t stop screaming _Harry Harry Harry_.

“Did you know she’d been planning their wedding since she was eighteen? She–”

“Haz, can you just shut up a second, I can’t hear myself think!” Harsh, Louis was always too harsh.

“Oh. Sorry,” Harry said softly. He was always soft, thought Louis. 

“I just–” Louis started, “…I’m freaking out.” He rolled onto his side where his eyes met Harry’s, bright green, alert, inquiring.

Without thinking, Louis reached out to touch Harry’s face, his thumb just lightly brushing his cheekbone, his fingers in his hair. Harry shuffled closer, leaning into the touch.

“Why?” Harry whispered into the quiet room.

“Because I want to kiss you,” Louis whispered, affected.

And before he could do anything, think anything, Harry closed the space between them and fit their lips together. Up close, all of Louis’ senses were magnified and it was intoxicating. Harry smelled so good, his hair was so soft, his lips smooth and warm. Everything about him was enticing, like crawling into clean sheets after a long day. When Louis had indulged himself thinking about what kissing Harry would be like, he’d imagined it at two extremes; slobbery and over-enthusiastic or delicate and controlled. But it was nothing like that at all. Harry kissed like it was an art, applying pressure then pulling back, enveloping Louis’ top lip, then tugging the bottom one, matching Louis’ lips movement-perfect so he could press his tongue in to lick Louis’, searching, exploring, lapping at his lips gently before pressing theirs together again, hard.

Harry moaned and deepened the kiss, wrapping his arm around Louis’ back and pulling him in closer. He slotted his knee in between Louis’ legs and it occurred to Louis that he wasn’t in control anymore, if he’d ever been, and he wanted to give Harry whatever he wanted to take. Harry pushed his hand up the back of Louis’s shirt, canvassing the shape of his shoulders and spine, his lips moving to his neck to mouth hotly at the soft skin there. Louis groaned, twisting his fingers into Harry’s curls as Harry kissed tiny kisses down his throat.

“I’ve wanted you forever,” Harry breathed, as Louis tightened his grip in Harry’s hair.

Harry removed his leg from between Louis’ to wrap it around his hips instead. With ease, he rolled them over, straddling Louis beneath him.

“Fucking look at you,” Louis whispered with reverence, running his small hands up Harry’s t-shirt. Even clothed he felt incredible, warm and muscular and solid.

Harry pushed his hair off his face as he caught his breath before pushing Louis’ shirt up to kiss at the large tattoo beneath his collarbones, his chest, his soft belly, all the way to the trail of hair sneaking down beneath his waistband.

“Off with this,” Harry murmured, pushing at Louis’ shirt. Louis yanked it over his head in short shrift before sinking back down onto the pillows. Still seated in Louis’ lap, Harry palmed his chest, squeezed his shoulders, looking like he wanted to devour him. Harry leant back down to kiss at Louis’ neck, nuzzle the sensitive spot behind his earlobes, before placing his huge hand over Louis’ dick in his pants, giving him a gentle squeeze.

Louis gasped.

“I wanna suck you off, Lou,” Harry whispered in Louis’ ear, “Let me suck you.”

“Oh god, yes,” Louis moaned, as Harry continued to rub him through his pants.

Harry rose up onto his hands, resuming his trail of kisses down Louis’ chest, tugging a nipple into his mouth. Louis groaned again, bucking his hips up in anticipation.

“Eager, aren’t we,” Harry wiggled his eyebrows before resuming his trail of kisses down Louis’ torso.

“I’m so fucking hot for you,” Louis panted. He grabbed out at any part of Harry he could reach, his upper arm, his jaw, his hair. _ Fuck _he loved Harry’s hair.

Harry tugged Louis’ pyjama pants down to his knees without ceremony and Louis felt the cold air hitting his skin straight in his dick. He felt wired, hypersensitive, his body vibrating with desire. 

When Louis had fantasised about fucking Harry, he’d seduced him, treated him gently, worshipped his body and whispered sweet things in his ear. Meanwhile, back in reality, Harry had Louis laid out on his back while he took no prisoners and Louis was near about coming in his pants just from some high-school-level groping. He was so _fucked_.

Harry nosed at Louis’ dick with interest, mouthing over the outline of it trapped in the tight fabric of Louis’ boxer briefs. Louis was already achingly hard.

“_Please_,” Louis moaned, squirming and writhing on the bed.

Harry mouthed at the tip, pushing his tongue against it just for a moment so Louis could feel the damp heat through the material. He pushed his long fingers into Louis’ waistband and Louis breathed out an early sigh of relief. After what felt to Louis like an eternity, Harry tugged Louis’ pants down a single inch to nuzzle at the coarse hair there. Louis whimpered and brought his hand down to tip Harry’s chin up to look him in the eye.

“Please, _babe_,” Louis hissed desperately, and the word made Harry’s heart swell.

Harry took it as the encouragement he needed, gently lifting Louis’ pants around his dick and pulling them down to his knees before tugging both them and his pyjamas off completely. He took a beat to take in Louis in all his naked glory before diving down to lick a hot stripe up Louis’ dick from base to tip.

“Oh fuck,” Louis gasped.

Harry took him in his mouth and down his throat in one, sucking back up in one long, wet pull before diving back down again, twisting his head to perfect the angle and sucking back up again, hot and slow, again and again. And fuck, Louis thought, it was so good. Harry gripped at Louis’ hamstrings, with his long fingers, then smoothed them over his quads, squeezing the soft insides of his thighs so Louis felt everything ten-fold.

After several minutes of a blinding blowjob, Louis had to sit up to pant, “Shit, stop or I’m gonna come.”

“Come in my mouth,” Harry instructed, his voice deep and raspy, eyes dark, continuing to work Louis’ dick over with his tongue. Louis moaned loudly, overwhelmed.

Harry resumed sucking in earnest until he felt the tell-tale twitch before Louis spilled into his mouth, over and over. Once he was finished, Harry pulled off gently, subtly swallowed the contents of his mouth, wiping the back of his hand over his lips. He grinned wickedly at Louis who tugged him down to lie beside him.

When his panting subsided, Louis rolled onto his side to stare into Harry’s eyes. Despite still being in desperate need of release, Harry looked serene, as if he’d never been more content than in that moment.

“Who _are_ you?” Louis asked rhetorically. Who _was_ this gorgeous boy who could have his hair in braids in the morning, singlehandedly unload a truck at lunch, and suck dick like a pro in the evening. Harry was endlessly surprising.

Harry peered up at him through a strand of curly hair that had fallen in front of his eyes. He was back to looking innocent and beautiful.

“Come over here,” Louis whispered hotly, pulling Harry into him.

Louis undressed him slowly, enjoying his body like he’d imagined he would, feeling out the muscles and bones of his arms and legs, brushing his fingers over his tattoos, committing them to memory.

“What do you want?” Louis whispered, nuzzling under Harry’s jaw as he held him in his arms.

“Just you,” Harry replied, nudging his hips into Louis, pressing their bodies together from nose to knees. Louis wrapped his small legs around Harry’s long ones, enjoying the soft scrape of his leg hair.

Harry kissed him again, gently this time, and Louis could still taste himself on Harry’s tongue; it felt so intimate as they kissed, slow and soft. Louis’ hands roamed Harry’s big body, his broad back, tight chest, strong legs, before pushing his hand into Harry’s underwear.

Louis stroked him firmly, his other hand gripping Harry’s hair. As Harry became increasingly worked up, their kisses became ragged and he panted and whined as Louis kissed him all over his cheeks and forehead.

“Come for me, babe,” Louis murmured, his voice as insistent as his touch. He worked his hand faster as he moved it higher, kinking his wrist and pushing his thumb into the sweet spot on the underside of Harry’s dick. Louis could tell he was close, wanted Harry to fuck his mouth to finish off, but Louis didn’t want to look away from Harry’s face.

Harry came with a soft exhale as he pressed his open mouth to the juncture between Louis neck and shoulder. Louis felt Harry fill his palm, and when he was done, Louis wiped his hand on Harry’s still-clothed ass to avoid wetting the bedsheets.

When he’d calmed, Louis tugged off Harry’s wrecked shorts and tossed them blindly into the pile of clothes still strewn on the floor of their room. They cuddled, bare-ass naked.

“You’re amazing,” Louis whispered, stroking Harry’s hair gently now.

Harry wiggled his eyebrows, dimples popping as he smiled. “You are.”

Louis sighed in satisfaction. “I’m legless. I haven’t come in weeks.”

“What?! Why not?” Harry snorted, hiding his face in Louis’ shoulder.

“I had a wank in the shower ages ago then felt so guilty about doing that to those ridiculously expensive tiles that I just couldn’t do it again.”

“Why didn’t you do it in the toilet?” Harry asked, giggling.

“I’m not some kind of animal, Harold, sheesh. I need ambiance.”

Harry snorted again, a great honking noise that Louis found gorgeously endearing. “What about now then?”

“Well, you cleaned up my load pretty well,” Louis winked.

“Oh, I see,” Harry said slyly.

“Nah, it was worth it,” Louis replied, warm, gentle and content.

They stared at each other for a few moments before dissolving into easy laughter. Once they were silent, Louis rolled Harry over to face the wall and wrapped his arm snugly around him.

“Is this going to be weird?” Harry whispered. 

“It doesn’t have to be,” Louis replied, nuzzling into Harry’s hair, now damp and musky at the roots. He pulled the covers over them. It was strange, his small body spooning Harry’s larger one, but it felt right. Before long, they were asleep and Louis slept longer and better than he had in months.

**

Although they’d notionally completed their own terraces, one house remained that they would have to renovate together. This house will be sold for profit or used as part of promotion for the show; the network also used the final renovation to keep the contestants busy while Keith and Dan’s team conducted common works, like stripping and repainting the exteriors and lacework, fixing up the garages, and repairing the common driveway which had taken a beating over the course of the show.

It was later on Monday morning that things went pear-shaped.

The teams had all gotten together in the living room of the untouched terrace ready to divide up the rooms they each would conquer and Scotty was there to mediate. Louis and Harry had chosen the living and dining area and been allocated the main bathroom and would have to work closely with Perrie and Jade, who were designing the kitchen, to ensure consistency of design and flow throughout the open plan space.

“Do you boys have a few minutes to have a quick chat with Jus and I?” Scotty asked, after they were done with the group. Justine was one of the show’s junior producers but she had the ear of the execs.

“Ah, sure,” Louis replied, “let me just grab Haz.” He trotted over to where Harry was reviewing the layout with Jade.

“Scotty wants to have a chat to us with Jussie, c’mon.” He yanked Harry by the shirt.

“About what?”

“No clue.” Louis replied, focused. “Let’s try and make it quick so the girls don’t make all the decisions without us.” He was joking, didn’t really think the girls would launch in without them but getting called into a meeting with Scotty and a producer usually meant something serious.

Scotty led them into one of the site offices where Justine was already seated at the meeting table. Justine was a no-nonsense thirty-something whose role was to encourage and teach the cast how to interact with the cameras. Her secondary role was mother hen and when someone was having a tantrum or in tears with exhaustion, it was often Justine who turned up to console them and tell them how great they were doing.

“Have a seat, guys,” she gestured to the seats across from her. Scotty ominously took the seat at the head of the table. Scotty was already the host with the most, relaxed, and universally friendly with everyone, but as a qualified builder and carpenter, his role was wide-reaching; there to give advice, words of wisdom and the occasional kick up the ass when needed.

“So, gents, we’re not going to muck you around,” Scotty started straightforwardly, “but we wanted to have a chat to you about something important. Now up front, I want you to know that we’re leaving this decision completely up to you. We’re not interested in trying to push you in any one direction.”

Justine tucked her long blonde hair over her shoulder and clasped her hands together in front of her on the table. She took a deep breath, “Guys, we’ve noticed you getting a lot closer these last few weeks, and we’re aware that maybe your relationship status has changed since we started filming…”

Just like that, Louis’ blood ran cold. He sat there, rigid, in his plastic chair.

“…Now, like Scotty said, we’re not interested in playing this in any particular way and we’re not out to exploit anyone on this show, let me make that clear. We’re just trying to look out for you and ensure your privacy is protected, if that’s what you choose.”

Louis sensed Harry starting to squirm next to him but he couldn’t look at him. Not yet.

“We can shape your arc however we want since we won’t be in post-production until next month. But it’d help us out a great deal if you had some idea now whether you wanted to make your relationship public.”

She let them digest her words before continuing. “Guys, I know it’s really awkward having to ‘define the relationship’,” she used air quotes, “before you’re ready but we wanted to make sure you had the chance to get in early and tell us what you’d like to show on camera. Our options are basically, on one hand,” she unclasped her hands, placing her left hand palm-up on the table, “show things as we’ve seen them, two mates who developed feelings for one another throughout filming, and we’d acknowledge this in promo. Or alternatively”, she placed her right hand out, “consciously avoid material that you’d like to keep personal and continue to present you as just friends.”

“Although obviously we have a commercial imperative to include footage that’s integral to the narrative of your journey on The Bloch, so keep that in mind when you’re going for the PDA, eh?”

Justine smiled at them but Louis felt sick. This thing with Harry was so new, so fragile. He mentally kicked himself for having his breakdown in that stupid car, but then he thought about how he’d had Harry on the brain so frequently lately that it had surely been obvious to even the most oblivious bystander. He had a moment of deranged panic when he realised Scott Cam had likely seen footage of him talking about boners to Niall.

“Now, obviously the existing rules apply; personal moments are personal. But like all the teams, your relationship dynamic is a key element to the success of the show, _that’s_ what the viewers tune in for. We also think you’re going to be a fan favourite which obviously has flow-on effects for diversity and visibility, which is wonderful.”

She clasped her hands back together calmly. “These are all things you should take into consideration. So, whether that dynamic is as mates, or a bit of a platonic bromance, or an actual romance, you guys should have a think about what you’d like to do.”

Louis’s attitude quickly turned from dread to anger. It wasn’t his job to be _visible_ or be a willing participant in some ludicrous contrived gay love story on television, he thought furiously. This thing with Harry wasn’t even anything, might never _become_ anything. They were just having fun, messing around and appreciating each other’s…talents.

“No,” he said firmly. “I don’t want you to do it–show us being…whatever.” Louis waved his hand between he and Harry, although he still couldn’t look him in the eye. “I don’t mind a…bromance thing or whatever but not…the other thing. Definitely not.”

“We can give you guys some time to talk about it? Like we said, its not urgent, it’s just for us to keep in mind,” Justine replied calmly, still smiling despite Louis’ increasing agitation.

“Jus, if we did want to–?” Harry spoke up quietly.

“Nope,” Louis interrupted, “we don’t need any time to think about it.” Louis’ anxiety was audible in his voice. “Actually, can you excuse me?” He rose to his feet, pushing his chair back. He gave them all a desperate look before dashing out of the demountable.

Louis stormed out onto the road, kicking a stray bucket in frustration.

“Fuck!” he shouted out to no one as he yanked on his hair. He couldn’t believe how quickly everything had turned to shit. He felt suffocated; couldn’t go back to join the other groups in his state, still couldn’t face Harry, and if normally might have gone to Justine to let off steam, he certainly couldn’t now. He’d never been one to shy away from the spotlight but now he felt like an animal in a cage, trapped, his every movement scrutinised.

So, he did the only thing he could think of; he went for a drive. Louis didn’t think Niall was going to pick up, but sure enough he did, on the very last ring.

“Shit mate, I was in a meeting,” Niall answered, flustered. “Everything alright?”

Louis felt like an asshole. Of course, the rest of the normal world was at work on a Monday morning. “Um, sorry,” he replied, his voice breaking immediately. “I can call you back?”

“Lou, are you ok?” Niall asked, hearing the distress in his voice. “Are you _crying_?” Louis never cried. “What’s happened?” Niall sounded frantic.

“I’m losing it, Ni,” was all Louis could manage around his enormous wracking sobs. He laughed weakly but there was no humour in it.

“What’s happened, mate? Can you tell me? Do you need me to come out there? I can be there in an hour?” He didn’t deserve a friend like Niall, Louis thought miserably.

“_Fuck_,” Louis gasped breathlessly, “they just, like, mobbed Haz and I, gave us this massive speech about defining our relationship and being visible and I felt so cornered. Like, I just wanted to come here and do some building and win some money and it’s all turned to shit, Ni.”

“Who did? What’s happened with you and Haz?”

“We hooked up,” Louis blurted out. “After the dinner, after Liam proposed, and it was really good, Ni. _So_ good. I’m in deep.”

“Ok, sounds like I missed a few things. Who talked to you about you and Harry?” Niall asked, voice soothing, too polite to avoid the gory details.

“Scotty and Justine, she’s one of the producers.”

“And they told you what?” Niall teased the information out of him slowly. “I know it’s scary Lou, but they sound like they’re trying to approach it all in a smart way? So that there are no shocks down the track. And Scotty is a good dude, he wouldn’t try and trick you, mate.”

“Hm,” Louis grunted, he wasn’t sure.

“But you have to talk to Haz. Obviously if you’re uncomfortable with it and say no, then that’s what goes, but he deserves a say,” Niall said gently.

“I need to think,” Louis sighed, squeezing his eyes together.

“Ok, Lou, I know you’ll do the right thing. I love you, mate. Call me if you need. And let me know if you want me out there for pints, ok? I’m not busy, no hot dates on the horizon,” Niall chuckled and he heard Louis soften.

“Ok bud, I’ll let you get back to it.”

“Ok see you, Lou.” The car speakers beeped as Niall hung up.

Louis still dreaded seeing Harry. He didn’t want to see him hurt, but he also didn’t want to budge on the view he’d shared with Scotty and Justine. Mainly though, he just didn’t want to be called out on his bullshit.

Picking the lesser of two evils, he wandered back into the unrenovated terrace where the Js and the girls were arguing about flooring they’d all choose. Naturally, Harry was there too.

Louis felt a pang in his chest whey made eye contact. He knew he still looked shaken up, eyes puffy cheeks red, his greasy hair shoved under his hood.

“Hey Louis, everything ok?” Jules asked kindly.

“Yep,” he replied, voice high. He didn’t sound fine, but the group was too polite to push it.

“What’ve we decided on, then?” Louis asked, peering down at the sample book from the flooring supplier.

Jade gave him a run down of their choice and her tentative installation schedule that everyone had supposedly agreed to, but Louis couldn’t bring himself to care anymore.

As she spoke, his eyes drifted to Harry. Today, he wore his hair loose and his flannel shirt open, so Louis could see the swallows behind the straps of his singlet. Now that Louis knew what Harry looked like, _felt like_, underneath his clothes, he could hardly look away.

It was a different dynamic, working with all the other teams inside the same house. There was activity everywhere, different builders and tradies chatting in small groups, carrying materials, moving from room to room with purpose and Louis was endlessly grateful for the distraction.

Because it was the start of the week, Harry was with James and Paul, taking charge of the demolition, and Louis was relieved he could plausibly deny deliberately avoiding Harry, if he was asked. God, he thought to himself, he was so fucking pathetic. 

But Louis couldn’t avoid him forever. Just after seven was usually when they met for dinner, after noise restrictions kicked in. Louis briefly indulged the idea of grabbing dinner with Liam and Sophia but they were still wrapped up in their love bubble, and none of the other teams had extended him an invitation. He also thought the only thing worse than facing Harry was being found out trying his best to _avoid_ facing Harry.

Around seven-fifteen, Louis snuck back into their house. Although every surface was still covered in various materials, the floors carefully covered with special matting, it was effectively their house to live in for one more week. He yanked a pre-prepared meal out of their mini fridge, stabbed the plastic film aggressively and shoved it into their shitty microwave. Even _it_ mocked him, refusing to latch, the door flying back open once, twice.

“Fucking thing,” Louis grunted. He took a deep breath, and slowly, firmly, shut the microwave door, punching in two minutes. He heard footsteps behind him.

“Lou, can we talk?”

Louis had been sure that Harry wouldn’t approach him, would just let him seethe. But Harry was braver and more mature than Louis ever gave him credit for and a better person than him every day of the week.

Louis sighed. “I guess. This thing’s cactus anyway.” The microwave had stopped with a minute left, and the display was now flashing needily, the light was still on but the plate wasn’t spinning. Louis had run out of excuses.

Harry lead them into their bedroom, for which Louis was glad. Before, he wouldn’t have had a second thought about chatting out in the open. Now, although there was no crew around, he was paranoid about being seen, his actions misinterpreted. Harry shut the door behind them and moved to sit on the bed. For a few moments, Harry just looked Louis in the eye. Was his expression reproachful, or something else–disappointed? He could deal with anger, Louis thought, but not Harry’s pity.

“Are you ashamed of me, Lou?” Harry finally asked, and Louis hadn’t been expecting that at all. Harry, whose confidence had grown from strength to strength each week, who was always unabashedly himself, thought _Louis_, a useless human and all-around fuck-up might be ashamed of _him_.

“What? Of course not!” Louis blurted out. It was the truth.

“Then…why? I thought we were having fun together, I thought–”

“Look Haz, it’s not about you.”

“You said–, you told Jus and Scotty that you didn’t want to be shown with me? Obviously, you’re fine with us working together but not anything more than that?”

“That wasn’t what I meant.” Louis knew he wasn’t making any sense but he felt like his heart was in a vice and he couldn’t articulate what he meant, even if he could work out what that was.

“Then what did you mean?” Harry still wasn’t angry, didn’t see Louis for the pathetic coward that he was.

“Look Haz, it’s honestly not you, you’re wonderful, you’re lovely, I–” Louis stammered hopelessly.

“What Louis, what!” Harry interrupted him. “If you don’t want me, then tell me, but don’t mess me around, because I can’t–, I _won’t_ do that again, sneak around, hide.” Louis cringed; he could only imagine what Harry had been through growing up.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t. I like you so much Haz, but I can’t be the hero the people need. I don’t want to be diverse, or visible, or anything other than a fucking great project manager. I don’t want to be paraded around during promo as some stupid sucker who was just gagging for you this whole time. No one will ever give a shit about who else we are, what else we can do, they’ll just see us as the gay guys.”

“Is that bad?” Harry protested, “I _am_ gay, it’s part of who I am.”

“You don’t get it Haz,” Louis sighed forlornly, resigned to telling Harry the whole humiliating story. “When I was a kid, everyone was one hundred percent sure I was going to turn out gay. I was small, and pretty and lived in a house full of girls. I was shit at school so I liked mucking around in drama class, and obviously I’m the biggest bloody drama queen you’ll ever meet. When I started dating girls, everyone was _positive_ I was in the closet. I got teased fucking mercilessly.”

Harry had a pained look on his face. He knew that feeling too.

“That’s partly why I got into construction, it was a _manly_ job, you know?”

Louis continued, pained. “Then, when I was eighteen, I met this guy. He was an apprentice chippie like me, and it hit me like a ton of fucking bricks. All my life people had decided that I was gay, then I wasn’t, then suddenly here I was in love with this guy and I felt like such an idiot, like I was the last one to know.” Louis wiped a tear away from his face roughly.

“Of course, I was still into girls, that had never been a lie. But the worst thing was no one believed me. I know there are guys that try being with chicks, or honestly think they’re bi before coming out as gay, but it was the opposite for me. The guy thing honestly came as a shock.”

“And I’m not ashamed,” Louis continued, “but I just want to be myself. I want to be in charge of my own narrative,” he jabbed his chest, repeating the word Justine had used. “I don’t need some television show telling all of Australia who it thinks I am, and I absolutely don’t want everyone at home who called me a fag sitting there saying ‘I told you so’.”

“I know what it feels like, Lou, being bullied, being called a fag, a princess.” Even fighting back tears, Harry was courageous. Louis cringed, thinking of his earlier words; he’d said them in gest but they’d surely been hurtful if Harry was bringing it up now.

“But you’re _you,_” Louis replied and Harry’s eyes widened. Louis shook his head, “I mean, you don’t make any apologies for who you are. It’s the thing I like most about you.” To think before this, Harry’s eccentricities had driven Louis up the wall, embarrassed him. Not for the first time, he felt like a piece of shit.

“I wasn’t always like that though,” Harry replied, voice breaking, “I’ve dated guys who were closeted, hated themselves, took it out on me, made me feel like I wasn’t worth anything.”

Louis thought back to Harry’s mystery footy player boyfriend, wondered if he was one of the ones who had treated Harry that way. Louis wanted to protect Harry from all that but Harry it didn’t seem like Harry needed his protection anymore.

Harry continued, “There are enough people in this world ready to drag you down, don’t be one of them. I know who you are, Louis. You’re that guy who doesn’t take any shit. You are _brave_, Louis.” Harry was in tears now.

“Please,” Harry grabbed Louis’ small hand in his big ones, “be with me.”

“I can’t,” Louis choked out, “I’m sorry, you’re wrong, I’m not brave like you. It is what it is.”

**

“Here you are, love,” Clo said, pushing a glass of water towards Harry on the small table they shared out on the pavement. It was Wednesday and they’d stopped for a quick coffee break while out shopping.

Harry had been picking out large pieces for the living and dining space and Clo had been doing a recce of soft furnishings for the house’s second guest bedroom. She’d gotten lucky and was carting around a massive bag of cushions, and with Harry looking like a model in his jeans and trilby hat, they made an amusing pair.

“Thanks, Clo,” Harry replied, absentmindedly stirring his latte.

“What’s on your mind, hon?” she asked, sipping her flat white. Her and Paul had been like surrogate parents throughout filming and Harry was going to miss them terribly when they all split.

“Just thinking about Liam’s proposal. That thing he said about working hard every day to make Soph happy,” Harry paused, “…what do you do if what’s going to make one person happy makes the other person unhappy?”

“Where’s this coming from, love?” Clo asked; Harry was being hopelessly cryptic.

Harry didn’t answer, staring pensively into his cup of coffee.

“Well,” Clo started, “that depends. That person needs to decide what will make them more unhappy; their person being unhappy, or them being unhappy.”

“Then they, the people, need to decide if they can meet in the middle, so they can be both a bit happy, or whether one person values their person’s happiness over their own.” She was speaking in riddles, but Harry understood.

“I’m confusing myself, love. We’re talking about you and Louis, aren’t we.”

“Nothing gets by you, does it?” Harry asked facetiously; he’d come to Clo a lot for support early on when Louis had been too much. “Sometimes I just think we’re too different to ever work.”

“Well my advice stands. You can see if you can reach a compromise, or, you can choose to make him happy. For big things, sometimes there’s no choice but to sacrifice your happiness for theirs. And when you love someone, you trust that, when you need it, they’ll do the same for you. As long as it’s equal, and no one gets resentful, it works. And sometimes, letting your partner win is better than winning yourself.” She shrugged and laughed warmly.

“Anyway love,” Clo continued yammering away, “you want to be with someone who challenges you. It’s no good if you see eye-to-eye all the time, you won’t learn, you won’t grow. And, for what it’s worth, Louis certainly seems like he gives you that.” She gave him a wink but let him digest her words.

“Come on, we better get back,” she said, grabbing her enormous bag of cushions, putting her arm through his and leading him to the car.

**

It was one-am on Thursday morning and the boys and girls had joined forces to paint the entire kitchen, living, and dining space. They took their opportunities for sleep where they could and since tonight was going to be an all-nighter anyway, they’d been taking turns getting some shut-eye. Harry had gone for a power nap and it was almost Jade’s turn.

Louis was pleased that they’d chosen the living and dining room because it gave them the opportunity to work with Perrie and Jade. Perrie and Jade had initially planned it so that Jade would oversee the build onsite due to her knowledge of the industry and Perrie would take charge of the design choices and the shopping. However, it quickly became clear that Perrie was particularly suited to dealing with the rough and tumble of the site. Within a week, she had all their tradies wrapped around her little finger and was a force to be reckoned with if her instructions weren’t stuck to.

Louis loved Perrie because she was hard as nails and he thought that if he hadn’t fallen so hard for Harry, he might have asked her out after the show wrapped.

“Babe, why don’t you go sleep, Lou and I are doing good here and Harry’s going to be up soon,” Perrie offered sympathetically; Jade was yawning compulsively.

“Nah I’m good, I said I’d do another hour,” Jade replied, before being overcome with another huge yawn, “it’s fine.”

“Go Jado, we’re fine, I promise,” Louis insisted, “Anyway, I’m sure Pez wants you in good shape tomorrow to crack on with the outside.” Perrie and Jade also had to complete the outdoor areas for reveal on Sunday.

Jade nodded in resignation, heading out the screen door to make the short walk to her and Perrie’s place and the comfy bed that awaited her. Perrie wrapped Jade’s paintbrush in cling wrap and chucked it down on the tarp with the rest of their painting supplies.

“Haz said he’d be back at two, yeah?” she asked, reaching to retie her pink hair in a knot on top of her head.

“Yeah but I’d love to let him sleep a bit more if we could, his back’s been giving him trouble since demo earlier in the week,” Louis said as he painted a perfect stripe along the skirting boards.

Perrie threw him a small smile, “He’s such a lovely guy, Harry. And he works so hard.”

“That he does,” Louis nodded. He and Harry hadn’t talked much beyond the necessary stuff since their conversation on Monday night and Louis missed him.

“You guys make up after Monday?”

Louis groaned, “Why does everyone know about that?”

“I don’t know anything, I just know that you guys seemed awfully happy on Monday morning, went off with Scotty, and you came back looking like someone had murdered your Nan.”

“That’s a bit graphic,” Louis replied, pretending to be outraged.

Perrie shrugged, turning away. “Do you want to talk about it?” She wasn’t looking at him now, too busy smoothing paint up and down the wall with the roller in confident strokes.

“Not really,” Louis replied glumly.

“Well it’s going to be a long night if you don’t want to talk to me, so how about I tell you a story.”

Louis grunted noncommittally, continuing to paint.

“It was Zayn’s idea to audition,” she started. Zayn was the ex-boyfriend, the electrician who’d broken it off with Perrie after they were cast but before the show started filming.

“Honestly, I have no idea why, you’ll never meet someone who hates being the centre of attention more than Zayn, but I guess he thought I’d be good on the budgets and bossing people around and he’d do his sparky thing, and we’d muddle through the design bit. And the whole being on television thing.”

“Anyway, as it got closer and closer, he got more and more distant, and I was trying to get his head in the game, but he was spending way more time with his mates, smoking a lot of weed, being unreliable at work, just stressing out.”

“So, I said, we don’t have to do this, if it’s going to be too hard on you, but he really wanted to do it. Then, as you know, about two weeks before we were meant to start filming promo, photos and that, he pulled out, and a week after that he was gone.”

“Honestly, babe, he’s an idiot,” Louis interjected, finally snapping out of his reverie. “You’re like my favourite person here,” Louis said. The ‘besides Harry’ was a given.

“No but that’s just it, Lou,” Perrie corrected him, “he wasn’t, and he isn’t. He wanted to do the show so we could spend time together, remember why we loved each other. He wanted us to win money so we could think about getting engaged, start a life together. He told me all these things but I didn’t listen.”

“But that dick left you!” Louis said bluntly but not unkindly.

“He did. But he left because I’d stopped putting us first. I was stretching myself too thin with work, and with his hours and my hours we barely saw each other, and I spent my free time with Jade and the girls and just doing whatever I wanted and I left him with the scraps. You know how I can get Lou, fixated on things, I’m a control freak, wanting to have all the little parts of my life working in perfect harmony. But I just took for granted that he’d always be there until one day he wasn’t.”

“But you said he left to go find himself?” Louis didn’t understand.

“I lied,” she smiled at him sadly. “I was so ashamed, I couldn’t even tell Jade, and it was easier to blame him rather than look in the mirror. Only my mum and sister know the truth. And now you.”

Louis was dumbfounded.

Perrie continued, “I guess what I’m trying to say is, and take this anyway you want, is that when you find that special person that gets you, that you can’t imagine being without, don’t let them go. Don’t assume that because it’s good, they won’t pick themselves up one day and decide they can do better. You gotta fight for it, Lou.”

“Annnnnd thank you for coming to my”, she checked her watch, “two-am TED talk”. She laughed musically.

And Louis _knew_, he already knew that Harry deserved better than him, with his temper and doggedness and lack of patience. Harry deserved the world, Louis thought, and if Harry wanted to share just a bit of that with him, Louis wanted Harry to have the best of him, all of him, not just the scraps, like Perrie had said.

At four, Jade returned from her sleep. Harry had returned a bit after two despite his bad back and had spent the last two hours sleepily spraying the ceiling, standing on the metal ladder like a shining giant.

“Alright, I’m heading off for a couple, I’ll be back at six,” Louis announced, eyes beginning to droop. He was weary, physically and emotionally, but his heart warmed when Harry shot him a sweet smile from above.

He felt like a different person than the one that had begun the show, only a little over two months ago. He was still too brash, too melodramatic, too immature, but he’d also learned to trust, to encourage and support Harry, and accept his help too, and it showed in the work they’d completed together.

He walked in their house via the back, through the screen door, stepping over the deck Harry had helped lay that day Louis had almost choked checking him out. He walked into the kitchen, where he’d had that awful argument with that dickhead, where he’d felt that first pang of true affection for Harry.

He walked through the living and dining room, and everywhere were Harry’s little signatures; the marble he’d pressed to his cheek to feel its cool creaminess, the velvet he’d made Louis touch to prove how soft it was, that bloody sofa that Harry had lounged on, no awareness of the effect it had on Louis.

He walked up the stairs, remembering how Harry had told him how the black and brass fixtures would add a masculine touch, and Louis smiled because of course he’d been right. He walked past the bathroom, remembering the time he’d been driven so wild by thoughts of Harry he’d come so quickly, hot and desperate under the shower spray.

He could smell the newly installed parquetry floor, its tannic scent reminding him of how they’d fought about it, how glad he was that Harry had won. He passed their winning master bedroom, pausing in the doorway to admire it, its entire existence testament to the beauty of the things they could achieve together. He looked at the perfect pendant, remembering the feeling of warm satisfaction he’d felt when he’d left the designer’s studio with it in the car, hoping it could say to Harry what he couldn’t. 

Finally, he got to their guest bedroom, _their_ bedroom, where they’d come together so perfectly that sleepy Sunday. It was still chaos and stood in stark contrast to the serenity of the rest of the rooms. It was like him, Louis thought, a sinister blot on Harry’s perfect canvas. Or maybe it wasn’t him, maybe it was the one remaining roadblock in he and Harry’s path to happiness. Maybe it was none of those things, just a bedroom, and maybe he was just delirious with tiredness. He stopped thinking as he pitched face-first into their bed to sleep, if only for a couple of hours.

**

A strange feeling had overcome the block as the clock ticked down to their last night; it was almost time to pack up and go home. Their houses would sit empty for a couple of months, unsold, while filming moved to post-production where the crew would package up the content, the cast would do promo, the show would air, and then the auctions would happen in real-time so the sale prices didn’t hit the web before the last episode had aired.

On Friday, everyone was reflective.

“It’s like I never want this to be over, but I also can’t wait for this to over,” Jade mused, sipping her takeaway coffee like her life depended on it. “What are you guys gonna do after this?”

Louis chuckled to himself, if only she knew how loaded that question was. Thankfully, Perrie saved both he and Harry from having to answer, launching into how she thought she might see what other jobs were out there. Louis wondered if she had turned a bit of a corner, maybe reassessing her life a bit. If anyone understood how The Block made you reassess your priorities, it was Louis.

By Friday afternoon, their final rooms were well underway. The floor was down, the kitchen cupboards were in and Harry and Jade had all their furniture deliveries booked in for the following day. On Thursday night, Louis had overseen the tiling of the main bathroom and the girls had their deck in. As a group, they just had to get their furniture in, get the lawn down and plants in, put in the bathroom fixtures and apply the finishing touches.

Friday evening, Louis thought it was a good a time as any to break the ice with Harry. They’d called it for the day and Louis felt dread at the thought of another night of him and Harry dancing around each other, pretending that everything was fine.

“Hey Haz?” Louis asked as Harry returned from his shower, “You wanna go out for dinner?”

Harry paused, towel around his waist then grinned, “Yeah, definitely.”

Louis thought Harry might like to go somewhere other than the pub so he took them to a nice Italian place on the main street. Because it was a Friday, the punters were sat on the pavement and Louis felt a pang of nostalgia, like he could barely remember the old version of himself that had drinks with the boys after work on a Friday, that took a hot guy or girl to a restaurant before going home to fuck. That version of him seemed so carefree compared to now.

Louis felt awkward as he pawed at his glass of wine. Besides the pub with the others and ready‑meals in the kitchen, they’d not had dinner together, alone, off-site _once_. Harry looked distractingly good tonight, wearing his jeans and a satiny purpley-blue shirt. As usual, he’d left the first couple of buttons undone and that little patch of bare skin on his chest was making Louis feel hot. It felt like a first date.

“Listen–” Louis said at the same time that Harry said “So–”. They smiled at each other and Louis rolled his eyes, then they said ‘you go’ over the top of each other.

Louis paused and Harry laughed out loud.

Harry started, “So, this is nice.”

“Yeah I thought it was a bit shit that we’d never gone out for dinner together, just us.”

Harry nodded, “Well it’s never too late, is it?”

And didn’t Louis know it. “Actually Haz, I wanted to talk to you about something important–”

Harry interrupted, “I did too, actually. I wanted you to know that I’m sorry for pressuring you before. That wasn’t fair on you. I know we’re not really… _anything_ yet, and it wasn’t right of me to ask you to do that, especially on television. If I’d known what it meant, what they were really asking you, I never would have–”

“Haz–stop.” Louis couldn’t take it anymore. He was sick of pretending everything was ok.

“No, it’s fine Lou, I can wait, if that’s what you want. It’s just a stupid TV show, it’s not real. Or not even… we can just be friends again,” Harry said weakly.

“Were we ever friends, Haz?” Louis asked, but he was grinning.

Harry groaned, exasperated. “Not this again, god, I never should have brought it up–”

“No, no, that’s not what I mean,” Louis interjected, “I mean, I feel like I just went straight from not knowing you, thinking you were this whole different person, to lo–”, Louis cut himself off. “Liking you. A lot.”

“You like me, huh?” Harry teased and Louis groaned, blushing hotly.

“Do you want to know why I came on the show with you?” Harry asked. Louis was becoming anxious, rapping his fingers on the tabletop; he still hadn’t gotten out what he’d come to say.

Louis stilled his hand and put it in his lap, “I did wonder.” Obviously, Harry had the skills for the job but Louis had never really thought why Harry had chosen to take it all on with someone who, at the time, wasn’t even that nice to him. In the early days, Louis had legitimately considered whether Harry had joined him on the show just to antagonise him, but of course that was ridiculous, Harry wasn’t like that, he knew that now. Louis felt the familiar surge of guilt.

“I liked you.” Harry said it plainly, no pretenses, no embarrassment. “I knew we’d do great with our separate skills, definitely, but I hoped we’d get to know each other, become actual friends. I mean, I also hoped you’d fall _madly_ in love with me, but I would have settled for less.” Harry laughed warmly.

“Maybe I did,” Louis replied steadily; there was no coming back from where he was going. “I don’t deserve you, Haz. The way I treated you, and in front of other people, it was unforgiveable.”

Harry sighed as if he was trying to reason with a small child. “Do you want to know _why_ I like you, Lou? Because I don’t think you know.”

Louis didn’t answer. He honestly couldn’t imagine why someone like Harry _would_ like someone like him.

Harry went on, “I love that you’re fierce, that you don’t take any shit from anybody. You work incredibly hard and you don’t stop until you’re satisfied. I admire that so much, and that’s what drew me to you, at first. Even though you’re stubborn–”

“I’m _so_ stubborn,” Louis whined, apologetic.

“But,” Harry continued, taking Louis’ hand into his across the table, “so much more importantly, you recognise when you’re wrong. You give credit where it’s due. And I’m so thankful that you were able to change your mind about me because I’ve learned so much from you.”

Harry sounded so composed, like he said ridiculous, sappy things like that all the time. Maybe he did, Louis thought.

“I think maybe you rubbed off on me a bit too well?” Harry shrugged, and Louis didn’t miss the double-entendre but he didn’t want to giggle like a teenager and ruin the moment. “You’re not the only one who can be dramatic. I was way too forceful when I said that if we couldn’t broadcast about us to the world, then there couldn’t _be_ an us. And I’ve been burned before, sure. But I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’d like to give this a go, if you are. Any way you’ll have me, if you want me, I’ll be here.”

Louis squirmed in his seat, suddenly self-conscious in the crowded restaurant. The more time he spent with Harry, the more he realised how utterly upside-down he felt around him. He was used to being in control, taking charge of the situation, yet here he was again, being completely taken aback by Harry’s sincerity and his compassion. His stomach churned, thoughts swimming around in his head; he felt remorse, guilt, shame, and fear, but Harry’s words also gave him hope.

“I know what you’re doing, Lou.” Harry looked at him pointedly. Bloody Harry, Louis thought, he could read him like a book. “It’s like you’re willing to give everyone a second chance except for you. It’s ok to forgive yourself, Lou.” Harry squeezed his hand and smiled.

And suddenly Louis’ thoughts galvanised, transforming in his mind, coming together from separate strains into something solid; Harry was right. He _did_ deserve this, to take what he wanted, be who he wanted, say fuck you to everyone who had ever doubted him. And what he wanted was sitting right in front of him, and he wanted him back. He thought back to what Perrie had said.

“No,” Louis blurted out and Harry’s face fell.

“I mean _yes_. I want this, I want us. But I also want everyone to know it.” And then, Harry beamed.

Later that evening, tucked up in their shared bed for almost the final time, Louis felt contentment like he hadn’t felt in years, perhaps ever. He was warm with wine, full with the best meal he’d had in weeks and high on the feeling that things were finally exactly how they were supposed to be. Harry had lit the candle again and Louis basked in its warm glow and heady scent.

They lay shirtless, Harry’s head on Louis’ chest, too tired and happy to do much else. Louis reviewed the schedule for their final day of renovating and Harry browsed his phone, pausing periodically to plant tiny kisses on Louis’ neck.

“Hey Haz,” Louis looked down to the mass of loose curls on his shoulder, expression mischievous. “Let’s facetime Niall.”

The phone rang twice before Niall picked up, light brown hair pushed back off his forehead, cheeks flushed pink. His shirt collar was open, his tie long gone, and a puff of chest hair peeked out. He looked tipsy; it was Friday night, after all.

“_Waheyyy_! What do we have here!” He sounded a little past tipsy, actually. “Looks like you boys finally got your shit together!” He paused, mouth dropping open, “Wait, did you just fuck?!”

Louis laughed, without being able to see their legs, they did look naked.

“No! Perv. We just thought we’d give you a bell to let you know how we’re doing,” Louis said innocently, Harry giggling into his shoulder, dimples popping charmingly.

“We might have worked out a few things, Ni.” Louis was being coy and Harry loved it, like it was just their special thing to share, at least for tonight.

“Lads, I’m honestly stoked for you,” Niall replied. An arm slung around his shoulder, it’s owner, outside the frame, obviously wanted his attention.

“We won’t keep you Ni, looks like you’re having a good time,” Louis said.

“Hi Niall,” Harry gave the camera a little wave.

“Hey darlin’!” Niall replied enthusiastically, talking a little too loudly, “What did I say! I told you he–”

“Ok, we better let you go!” Harry cut in loudly, suddenly sheepish.

“Ok fellas, I love you both! I’m so happy for you!” The picture became blurred as Niall was again pulled away from the phone before reappearing, “Ok bye!”

“Bye!” Harry and Louis said together before Louis hung up.

“You know,” Harry started, “if you act like a dick to me again, I’m going to have to sic Niall on you.”

“Ooh, I’m so _scared,_” Louis replied, bringing his hand up to Harry’s hair. “Quaking in my boots. Anyway, I have no intention of being a dick to you like that again.”

“I know,” Harry said, lifting his chin off Louis’ shoulder to kiss him.

**

Saturday morning gave way to Saturday evening and before they knew it, the final judging would be upon them.

That night, the teams convened in the extra house, in Harry and Louis’ near-complete living room. Harry had his furniture in, mostly covered in plastic sheeting, and the couch made a crunching sound as James sat down.

“How does everyone feel they went this week? Better or worse than usual?” Jules asked, sipping her beer.

Jade sat on the floor up against a coffee table, tipped up on its side, ready to be settled into its permanent position.

“This week was weird, like I think we cared about these rooms less than we did for our house, but maybe because we were more relaxed, we did better? I don’t know. It was fun working with these idiots,” Jade gestured to Harry and Louis, sitting on the stools at the enormous kitchen island. Louis’ legs dangled where they didn’t reach the footrest, “what do you reckon?”

Louis grinned at her, “I’m gonna miss all of you guys so much. This has been the best ride, honestly it’s been the best experience of our lives, hasn’t it Haz. But I think we’re also keen to get back to real life a bit, see what the future holds. Speaking of which…” Louis paused, “Haz and I have a bit of an announcement to make. I think some of you are aware that this experience has brought us closer together, but…” he took Harry’s hand in his, throwing him a broad smile.

“We–” Louis started again, but before he could say anything further, Perrie and Clo squealed, rising out of their chairs to run over and hug them.

“You’re together?” Perrie shrieked and Harry and Louis could only nod before more hugs. Jade and Jules had come in to get in on the action and the guys were heading over to slap them on the back and shake their hands.

When the excitement died down, Paul moved to speak.

“I feel like as the resident grumpy old man here, and as your revered elder,” the teams snickered, “I should say a few words.”

Harry leaned his head on Louis’ shoulder again, he was just so happy.

“I just want to say that I am so proud of these guys. As you know, young Louis here has enjoyed spending the last nine weeks running me ragged and driving me up the wall…” Just that morning, Louis had almost given Paul a heart attack when he’d hidden in a wheelie bin and jumped out of it just as Paul walked by, frightening the life out of him. “But, these two have been like stand-ins for our boys while we’ve been here and it’s been an honour getting to know them and getting to work with them. They’ve taught us a lot, and I hope we’ve been able to teach them a thing or two as well.” Harry looked to Clo and mouthed _thank you. _

“So, here’s to Harry and Louis,” Paul raised his beer, “I think on behalf of everyone, I say congratulations, and well done. You little ratbags deserve each other.” The group burst out with laughter and toasted their drinks.

The next morning was their final judging. While Harry and Louis knew they’d done well the previous week with the girls’ help, they didn’t expect a win. When Scotty announced they’d won money off their reserve price with a grand total of 29, it was the icing on the cake.

Although privately the other teams knew about their relationship, they’d still not acknowledged it with the production team. Nevertheless, when the scoreboard had revealed their win, Louis had pulled Harry into a warm hug and given him a kiss on the cheek. “Proud of you,” he’d whispered.

As the other teams headed off to have a rest before the wrap-up party that evening, Harry and Louis hung back.

“Scotty, do you think we could have a chat with you? And Justine if she’s around?” Louis asked.

They told Scotty and Justine that since they’d taken the chance to discuss it with one another–a white lie as far as Louis was concerned–they’d concluded that they wanted to go public about their relationship.

Justine ensured they’d thought through the implications, that they might be asked personal questions during the rounds of promo, that they might attract negative attention from certain parts of the community. But Harry and Louis assured her that they were ready to take it all on board as long as their story was treated realistically and without unnecessary drama; effectively, they just wanted to be treated like the other couples. Louis was insistent that they not shy away from their initial tensions although requested they not include their most delicate moments, his outburst to Niall, his admissions to Harry.

From Harry’s standpoint, all he’d requested was that they not preference their relationship drama to the detriment of Louis’ hard work, and Louis had agreed, arguing that if they painted Harry just as the vacuous gay guy rather than the incredibly skilled designer that he was, he’d make them sorry they ever met him.

Justine reassured them both, “Look guys, what we want to show the viewers, and why we suggested this to you in the first place, is that it became obvious to us that as you two got closer, your work improved dramatically. It was clear to us that the only way to show why you went from strength to strength in your design was to show that it aligned with the blossoming of your relationship, from not really even friends, to friends, to two people who genuinely supported each other, and then something special even beyond that.” She smiled warmly.

“For us, those two stories couldn’t be separated, and your Block journey on the screen really would have been diminished if we didn’t get to show how much you’ve both grown, first as individuals, then as a pair. So, we’re honestly thrilled you’ve come to this decision.”

And that was that.

**

The wrap-up party was hosted in trendy bar-restaurant in the city and the whole multi-level venue had been rented out by the network for the occasion. Thankfully, they had one more night at the block before returning the keys until the auction, which was just as well, because Louis was well on his way to drunk.

“Liam! My brother from another mother!” he yelled, slinging a cheerful arm around Liam’s shoulders. Harry and Sophia had scampered off to get more champagne.

“How’s coupledom treating you, then?”

“It’s good, bro. He’s just the best,” Louis gushed, “sometimes I just like, sit, and kind of admire what he’s like.”

“Mate, you’re either shitfaced or a total goner,” Liam laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Louis had noticed a marked change in Liam since Sophia had said yes to his proposal. Where before he’d been a happy, charming bloke, he now just seemed ecstatic all the time. Louis was sure that if he asked, Liam would have insisted the sky was bluer, grass was greener, stars shone brighter now that Sophia was going to marry him. Louis wondered if Liam would ever come down from his cloud; the romantic in him secretly hoped not.

“Bit of both I think,” Louis replied, sheepishly, cheeks warm with embarrassment and booze.

“Do you love him then?” Liam asked.

“Jesus, you’re such a sap now that Soph’s made an honest man out of you!” Louis laughed.

Liam raised his eyebrows in expectation, _well?_, they said.

Louis lowered his eyes, “I do, yeah.”

“Does he know?” Liam wasn’t letting him off lightly.

“Well I haven’t _told_ him as much, but–”

“You should, Lou. If he means that much to you.”

Louis squirmed and Liam smiled wickedly, “If I may quote the wise words of a very good friend of mine, _stop being a pussy and go make your grand gesture_!”

Louis smirked, “All right, all right, I’m going! If I can even pry him away from your lovely fiancée. Come to mention it, are you sure there’s nothing going on there?” Louis feigned shock and Liam rolled his eyes.

“Go!” Liam laughed, giving Louis a shove.

Louis approached cautiously. Harry was always devastatingly handsome but tonight he was radiant as if he’d been absorbing everyone’s positive energy. He wore a silky, patterned shirt, but it was buttoned in such a way that didn’t leave much to the imagination. It was hot in the bar and he had a thin sheen of sweat across his brow down to his chest. Louis wanted to mouth at his neck, breathe in his hair, snake his arms around his waist and never let go. Liam was right, he was a total goner.

“Hey, do you wanna get out of here?” Louis whispered in his ear. Harry loved to socialise and Louis was sure he probably didn’t want to leave but he hoped the look he gave him said _I’ll make it worth your while._ They said a few quick goodbyes and headed out onto the street.

The fifteen minutes in the taxi felt like a lifetime and Louis was a pile of nerves despite Harry’s hand on his knee. Instead of being reassuring, the heat of Harry’s palm sent shockwaves up Louis’ leg. He wanted their last night in their house to be perfect but he didn’t think he was going to keep his composure very long.

When they arrived home, Louis stumbled out of the cab while Harry paid the fare. He stared up at their terrace, the small light left on in the guest bedroom. His nerves had had a sobering effect and he suddenly felt cold in the night air. He shivered as Harry unlocked the door and ushered them inside.

Harry led him by the hand, through the entryway, up the stairs, over the landing. They passed the master on the way to their bedroom.

“Wait,” Louis whispered. He pulled Harry back to rest in the doorway of the master bedroom. They took a moment to just appreciate what they’d accomplished; Louis’ magnificent ceiling, Harry’s immaculate furnishings, the bloody pendant that had started it all. Even in darkness, the perfectly imperfect glass bulbs gleamed above them. Louis blushed, nerves transforming into full‑blown shyness as they both stared at the enormous bed, the inevitability of what they were going to do weighing on them. But Louis couldn’t wait any longer.

“Haz,” he whispered, turning to face Harry, tangling their fingers where Harry still held Louis’ hand in his. Louis looked up to meet Harry’s eyes and even in the darkness he thought he could discern their green tint, or maybe the image of them was just seared into his brain. The moment was so quiet, so intense, so perfect, in the home they’d created together.

“Haz, I love you.”

Harry didn’t skip a beat before pulling Louis’ face up to his, crushing their lips together as he shoved Louis up against the doorframe. He covered Louis’ small body with his, grinding their hips together like a man possessed. Louis broke away from the kiss to moan loudly as Harry palmed at the meat of his ass through his jeans, pushing his long thigh between Louis’ legs. Louis cradled Harry’s face in both hands before bringing their mouths back together to kiss him desperately.

“Fuck, I want you so much,” Louis murmured, still standing on the threshold.

Harry grunted, overcome with want of his own, heaving Louis up off the ground and carrying him by the back of his thighs towards the bed before tossing him onto the mountain of luscious pillows.

Louis loved being manhandled like this. After their previous experience, it made no sense that he still assumed he’d be the one directing the plays, but it still shocked him how decisive and hungry Harry was when it came to taking what he wanted from Louis and how generously and passionately he gave of himself. Louis was _so_ into it.

Topping or bottoming he didn’t much mind, depending on his partner of course, but Louis loved feeling treasured during sex with guys; being treated like something precious wasn’t something he got when he was with girls. But more than that, he loved that he brought out a possessiveness in Harry because it was so unlike his usual demeanour, relaxed and generous. It had taken Louis a long time to come to terms with the idea that he didn’t have to be this huge stud in the bedroom to prove his masculinity but it was still a unique thrill, feeling tiny and prized in Harry’s arms.

As if he could sense it, Harry pinned him into mattress, pushing his tongue into Louis’ mouth, still grinding their hips together.

“_God you’re beautiful_,” Harry panted into Louis neck.

Louis wrapped his legs around Harry’s hips, hoping he understood what he wanted. Harry’s necklaces danced on Louis’ collarbones as they kissed and Louis reached from where his hands were planted on Harry’s ass to undo the few buttons keeping his shirt closed. He pushed his shirt off Harry’s shoulders, marvelling at the heat of Harry’s skin underneath his fingers.

Harry sat up on his knees, straddled over Louis, and slowly wriggled out of his shirt. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes dark and Louis had never seen him look more handsome. His hair fell into his face as he panted and Louis drank in the sharp angles of his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose, the swell of his lips. Once his shirt was clean off, he pulled Louis up so they could kneel facing each other. Louis lunged forward, looping his arms around Harry’s neck, holding him close as Harry kissed at his mouth, his cheeks, down his throat.

Harry pulled back to yank off Louis’ sweater and t-shirt in one and Louis felt cold and boiling hot at the same time, his skin feverish as Harry ran his huge hands over his chest to his back, and down into his jeans and boxers to grab at his ass. Harry groaned with need.

Harry brought one hand to the front of Louis’ jeans to squeeze him through the fabric, leaving the other to grip at his backside greedily, and Louis could only grip onto Harry’s shoulders, press his forehead to Harry’s neck and hold on for dear life.

“What do you want, Lou?” Harry whispered, kneading at Louis’ dick more firmly now.

Louis whined, his brain wasn’t working.

“Tell me what you need, babe,” Harry asked again, insistent. He kissed a little line up Louis’ jaw, up to his ear.

Louis tilted his head back, easing his access. “Fuck me,” he whispered up to the ceiling, eyes closed.

As soon as Louis got the words out, Harry pulled them both down onto the mattress, using his long legs to kick the mass of throw blankets off the edge of the bed. Harry undid Louis’ jeans, long fingers deft, and yanked them down, and off.

Harry stood to quickly dispense with his own before settling softly back down on the mattress on his back where he pulled Louis into his lap like he weighed nothing. He resumed stroking Louis through his underwear.

“How do you want it?” Harry panted. Louis was a sight, flushed from his cheeks to his neck, eyes still closed with abandon. Harry didn’t stop stroking. Louis let out a high little moan, incapable of thought or speech.

“Look at me, Lou,” Harry murmured, touching a hand to Louis’ cheek to bring him back into the here and now.

“Do you want to take me on your back?” Harry asked, relentless. “On your hands and knees?”

“_Yes,_” Louis replied non-specifically and Harry moved a hand up to his chest to pinch his nipple softly.

“Or do you want to ride me?” Harry’s hand never left Louis’ dick and he was applying just enough pressure to get Louis maddeningly hot, but not near coming, not yet.

“Yeah, I wanna ride you,” Louis murmured, distracted but desperate.

Harry snaked his hand down and around, from Louis’ chest to his lower back, pushing just his fingers into the elastic of his boxer briefs.

“Kiss me,” Harry demanded and Louis leant forward to crush their mouths together once more.

With Louis lying on top of him, legs spread around his hips, Harry had perfect access and traced his fingertips just lightly down where Louis was most sensitive.

“You want this, babe?” Harry whispered into Louis’ mouth.

“So much, god, so much,” Louis replied, nodding, grinding his hips into Harry’s, one hand holding himself up, the fingers of the other hand threaded through Harry’s hair. “Condoms are in the front pocket of my suitcase.”

Harry gave Louis one last kiss, pulling at his lip with his teeth, before sneaking out from under him to dash to their bags in the guest bedroom.

Louis lay back and shoved a hand into his boxers where he immediately missed the pressure from Harry’s hand. He gave himself a few quick strokes before sneaking his fingertips down to tease himself lightly. Harry’s fingers were big but his dick was even bigger and it had been more than a year since he’d been fucked. He thighs trembled with anticipation. He was nervous but he also couldn’t remember ever wanting anything, or anyone, quite as much.

Harry fingered him on his back, slowly but decisively, one slick finger, then two, all the while looking in Louis’ eyes as Louis winced at the sensation. Harry kissed him as he pushed in a third, twisting and pushing, pulling out then back in, responsive to Louis’ insistent moans.

Harry fucked him there, on his back, pushing in inch by delicious inch, Louis gripping Harry’s thighs so hard he left a mark. When Harry bottomed out, Louis saw stars, the pain of the stretch merging so completely with the pleasure of the fullness inside him that he couldn’t tell where one began and other ended.

Harry fucked him in long slow strokes until Louis begged for release.

“I’m getting close,” he whispered, as Harry pounded into him like an athlete, shoulders sinewy and hair damp.

“Not yet,” Harry hissed, pulling out slowly and Louis flinched at the loss.

Harry gripped his own dick at the base as he snuck down between Louis legs to take him into his mouth, sucking ever so slightly at the tip.

“_Jesus Christ,_” Louis gasped, propping himself up on his elbows long enough to see Harry grin at him wickedly. Louis flopped back down onto the pillows.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” Louis panted. He was already so far gone.

“Oh I have an idea,” Harry rose up to kiss his lips and whisper in his ear. “Get in my lap.”

Louis wrestled himself out from under Harry, slicking himself back up before settling down on Harry’s dick. 

“Come for me, baby,” Harry pleaded when Louis’ was close, stroking him as he fucked him.

Louis pressed his splayed hands into Harry’s middle as he fucked himself on Harry’s dick.

“I’m gonna come,” he whined, letting out a loud, dry sob before spilling onto Harry’s chest.

Until now, Harry hadn’t thought Louis could ever be more beautiful but the sight of him coming apart on top of him proved him wrong. His own orgasm caught him by surprise.

“_Oh_,” was all Harry managed as he came, hard, only moments after Louis, and Louis gasped, sensitive, as he felt him move inside him. Harry looked into Louis’ eyes, spent.

“I love you so much, Lou.”

They didn’t speak for what felt like minutes, lying side by side in the enormous master bed. Once pristine, the room was utterly dishevelled now; clothes strewn in the corners, bedding spilled on the floor, a condom wrapper on the chic bedside table.

“I think we’ll have to duck out and buy new sheets tomorrow,” Harry said, once he’d caught his breath. He pulled off the condom, tied it off, and placed it delicately on top of his discarded undies on the rug.

Louis burst out laughing and crawled carefully into Harry’s arms; he’d be sore for a day or so. “Pray the buyers never know how thoroughly we christened this house.” He paused. “This is nice and all but I kind of want to go back to our room.”

The guest bedroom wasn’t their room of course, but the two months of toil, tiredness, fighting, and fucking made it feel like it was.

“Me too,” Harry replied, “Grab your clothes, let’s go.”

Once back in their own sheets, they snuggled down to face one another.

“Do you think it’s weird that we could live together fine without ever even going on a date?” Harry asked.

“I think your definition of fine is a little different to mine,” Louis smiled wryly. Harry was ever the optimist and he loved him for it.

“We’ll be home tomorrow,” Harry said, uncharacteristically tongue-tied.

“Haz,” Louis whispered, eyes glinting in the dim light; their candle had almost burnt out. He understood Harry’s nerves. “Do you want to go on a date with me?”

Harry kissed him then, just lightly, before nuzzling into Louis’ shoulder.

“Hey, Harry,” Louis whispered after a while, fingers still combing Harry’s hair lazily. “That guy you were seeing before we came on the show, was that the guy that treated you badly? That made you scared you might get into trouble with me?” Louis still felt shame but it lessened every time he acknowledged it.

“Dylan?” Harry enquired.

Louis couldn’t bring to mind any footy players named Dylan but he was sure there was at least one in the league. He swore to himself he wouldn’t look the name up, at least not deliberately.

Harry snorted, “God no, he was lovely, but it never would have worked out, he just wanted to bottom all the time and I prefer to mix it up a bit.” He wiggled his eyebrows, “Just for reference.”

Louis raised his eyebrows in awe, so enamoured he could only wrap his arms around Harry to pull him closer, and if they woke early the next morning for Louis to fuck Harry into the mattress until their legs both shook with exhaustion, then no one had to know. 

**

It had been almost eight months since they’d first sent in their audition tape.

“Harry, please, we need to be there at two o’clock and it’s at least a twenty-five minute drive! Who cares about your hair, they’re going to style it there anyway!”

It was finally auction day.

The previous couple of months had been a whirlwind of promo; radio and magazine interviews, social media, and stilted breakfast TV. A couple of weeks earlier, they’d done the open houses, an opportunity for the general public, and potential buyers, to view the homes they’d created.

Despite the media frenzy, the public had responded more positively to their relationship than Louis would ever have expected although he secretly expected a lot of that was due to Harry being the most harmless charmer most people would ever meet. Harry truly had the charisma of a movie star and Louis was perplexed that he’d never really noticed the way Harry was with people before; open, kind-hearted and warm. Louis was no slouch with the crowds, he was an extrovert and a shocking flirt after all, but even he basked in Harry’s glow. During the open-house, a kind-looking woman who reminded Louis a bit of Clo, whispered to him that they looked like they were both radiating happiness, and Louis couldn’t disagree.

At home, life had also gone on as normal and Louis’ fears that things would be different once they left their Block bubble were unfounded. Really, his only concern was how little time he was spending in his apartment, a rental, that overlooked the ocean. While he’d originally loved it due to its modern interior and spectacular views, since spending more and more time at Niall’s after filming ended, it had lost most of its appeal. He insisted that, now that he was accustomed to Harry’s decorating, his apartment had lost its sheen, but neither Niall nor Harry really believed that was the full truth.

Finally, once Harry’s hair been scrunched and brushed and mussed and tidied up just the right amount, and Louis poured into black velvet jacket and band t-shirt, they were ready for the cameras for one last time. They could hear Scotty recording the introduction to the episode before they were pulled into a quick group interview with Shelley about how they were feeling. After what seemed liked forever, it was time for the main event.

Each auction would take place in the house being auctioned. The team who had renovated that house would sit with Scotty in the living room of the extra house, the one they’d renovated in the final week, where they would watch the proceedings via video link. The remaining teams would be based with Shelley out in the courtyard where they would watch on until it was their turn.

Harry and Louis’ real estate agent with whom they’d met periodically throughout the renovation had been collecting potential buyers since filming, and so they had reason to be quietly confident. An elaborate game engineered by Scotty before they’d headed off home had determined the auction order; Harry and Louis had been terrified to find out they’d be going first, followed by the girls, then the Js, then Paul and Clo. Liam and Sophia would go last.

With trepidation, they were led out to the living room couch. For better or worse, no matter the result, this would be the culmination of almost three months of blood, sweat and tears. So much had happened since they’d arrived on site that first day, Louis reflected. He wondered, if the auction didn’t go their way, whether he would have changed anything but the answer was no.

“How are you feeling, gents?” Scotty asked calmly, cameras not yet rolling.

“Absolutely shitting myself,” Louis replied, too nervous to be eloquent. Harry laughed.

“A bit nervous, yeah,” Harry said, giving the back of Louis’ neck a squeeze. 

“You’ll be fine,” Scotty reassured them, “you’ve done an amazing job. No matter what happens, be proud of what you’ve achieved.”

“Ok rolling in 3…2…1,” a producer warned. Then they were on.

“Now Harry and Louis,” Scotty began, “you were one of our most popular couples this year, not just for your amazing house but your… shall we say… _heated_ dynamic,” Scotty paused for them to laugh, which they did. It was heated alright, now so more than ever but in a totally different way.

He went on, “But you didn’t just renovate a house this season, you renovated your relationship. Is that fair to say?”

“I think that’s fair to say, Scotty,” Louis smiled wryly, eyes gleaming under the hot lights.

“Can I ask, how are things going with you guys now, still mates?”

Harry replied for them this time, “We’re going great Scotty, we’re still very, very good mates.”

Louis smiled, thinking back to how contentious that idea had once been. Harry grabbed his hand, tangling their fingers to make his meaning perfectly clear.

“How are you feeling now? Ready for this to all be over?” Scotty moved on.

“It’s been a wild ride, Scotty,” Louis replied, and Harry said, “Ready to get to it!”

The camera would stay on them and film their reactions while they watched the auction going on, a few houses down the street. The auctioneer began in earnest.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have here the most spectacular house on The Block this season. Exquisite interiors and finishes that are second-to-none. No other house on The Block can match this one for style, quality and aspect.”

Harry thanked his stars that Louis had won them the best-sighted house following their first flat-pack challenge melodrama. Their house really was a gem and Harry would miss it.

“Now your reserve price is set at $2.75 million,” Scotty started again. Their reserve had originally been higher but had been lowered due to having won the last week of judging. It was a massive advantage.

The auctioneer continued over on the screen in front of them.

“Let’s open the bidding at 2.6 million.”

The bidding began slowly, a trickle of bids until they climbed to the reserve price. It looked like three serious buyers had come to bid.

“2.8, do I have 2.8?”

Harry gripped Louis’ fingers so hard they hurt. A paddle was raised.

“2.9, can I get 2.9?” The auctioneer got it. Paddles continued to rise above the crowd.

They were stuck at 2.9 million. Scotty gave them a look; it wasn’t over, it said, but a slow start wasn’t a good sign. 

“Folks, this is an opportunity that won’t come around again! Do not miss out on buying what will be North Melbourne’s premier real estate! Can someone please give me 3 flat?”

The auctioneer looked to the owner of one of the paddles but they shook their head. They were out.

“I don’t want you to miss out on a piece of this suburb’s history, this is a unique piece of luxury property. Built in 1898 and renovated to the absolute best specs including top-of-the-line fixtures and appliances, this kind of property will put you on the map. You do not want to miss out on this one, ladies and gentlemen, you will regret it.”

Louis hadn’t even noticed he’d been holding his breath until, after what felt like an age, a paddle crept into the sky. Harry continued to grip his fingers.

“Wonderful madam,” the auctioneer said smoothly, “I’m now looking for 3.1, give me 3.1? What are you thinking sir?” The auctioneer spoke to a tall man in the corner, on the phone, no doubt bidding on behalf of a buyer; he was in frantic discussion down the line. He held up a finger as if to say _let me see_.

“3.1, I’m still sitting at 3.1, folks this house will be sold today, you do not want to go home empty handed!”

The auctioneer squeezed 3.15 out of the tall man, a smaller increment, maybe that was his limit. They were down to only two bidders.

“3.15 going once to the man in the blue suit! 3.15, last chance!” The other bidder, a slim woman with a short haircut, was frozen in place. “Going twice!”

Louis thought his heart was going to give out, this was more money than he’d ever imagined. The woman with the short hair continued to deliberate.

“A lot of love went into this one, folks, it’s literally everywhere you look.” The auctioneer looked pointedly to the woman. “Madam, are you in or out?”

And finally, finally, the woman came to, and gave a small nod.

“If I don’t receive a bid over 3.2 million, this house will be sold. Sir, are you still in this?” He asked the tall man, who shook his head. This was it.

Louis stood up from where he was seated on the couch, hand still connected to Harry’s.

“Going once for 3.2 million…” there was a dramatic pause, “Going twice…” then finally, it was the moment they’d been waiting for. Louis felt like he was going to jump out of his skin.

“Sold!” The auctioneer announced, slapping his rolled up brochure into his palm theatrically, “For 3.2 million dollars. Congratulations, madam.” The auctioneer went over to congratulate her and their picture feed into the living room was switched off.

Harry leapt to his feet to draw Louis into an enormous hug, Louis’ feet lifting off the ground. All their efforts had culminated in a win of _450 thousand dollars_.

Scotty waited patiently while they celebrated. The cameras continued to roll.

“That is an amazing effort, gents. How do you feel?”

Louis didn’t even know what to say. They’d worked hard, but it was an incredible sum for a few months’ work.

“I’m speechless,” Louis attempted, bewildered. “I just couldn’t have done any of it without this guy.” He put his arm around Harry’s shoulder.

“You know Scotty, tonight, just being on the show, I felt like I’d already won,” Harry smiled at Louis, absolutely elated, “but this is more than either of us could ever have hoped for.” And Louis understood exactly how Harry felt.

**

The afterparty was going off. The Block was officially over and the teams finally had reason to celebrate properly. One by one, the other teams had each headed off to Scotty’s couch to embrace their fate and, one after the other, had returned triumphant. It wasn’t until Liam and Sophia’s auction concluded with a profit of 420 thousand did Harry and Louis realise they’d won the whole damn thing. An extra _one hundred thousand dollars_ on top of their already massive winnings. It was madness.

“Mate, when the auctioneer said sold, you looked like you were going to cry!” Louis shrieked in Liam’s ear.

“I nearly was, mate. 420 grand, I can’t believe it. Do you know what this means to us?” Liam beamed.

“What are you going to do now?” Harry asked.

“Plan a massive wedding!” Sophia had appeared out of nowhere and Liam pulled her into his arms.

“I dunno, what do you say, Soph? Buy a nice fixer-upper and do it up ourselves?” Liam asked.

“No way, no thank you, not for a long time!” Sophia laughed.

“What about you guys?” Liam asked.

Louis looked to Harry, questioning. “Don’t know yet! Have to wait and see!”

Harry and Louis flitted from group to group to shake hands, give hugs and kisses and give congratulations. Perrie and Jade and James and Jules had both done very well, winning 43 and 415 thousand respectively, and Paul and Clo had done well, pocketing 375 thousand as their house had the worst aspect.

“We’re thrilled, darling, don’t you worry about us! We’re just so happy for you boys!” Clo said, wrapping them both into a big hug. They really had become a family, Louis thought.

“And we’re so glad you both finally sorted yourselves out!” Jules said. It was an unusual thing for her to say since she was usually so courteous.

“What do you mean?” Louis asked.

Perrie sighed, “I love you, but you’re honestly an idiot, Lou.”

“What do you mean? Why am I an idiot?” Louis was perplexed.

“Why do you think we all tried to help you two out?” Perrie asked, looking at him like he actually was the biggest idiot in Melbourne.

“Help us out, how? We didn’t need your help, we kicked ass week after week!” Louis insisted, reverting to type as he got more worked up. 

“Not on your reno, Lou, for you and Harry!” Jules said kindly, like he needed remedial help. She rubbed his back soothingly.

“What?!”

James jumped in. “We could see you guys were struggling because of your feelings for each other, so we, you know, helped you a long a bit!” He gave Louis a wicked grin.

Louis was incredulous.

“You guys planned this?!”

“Consider this payback for every time you got me, Tommo!” Paul was revelling in his shock.

The group burst out laughing. For the millionth time, Louis felt ten steps behind, upside down and back to front. It wasn’t until Perrie gave him a kiss on the cheek and ruffled his hair that he could begin to laugh with them.

Perrie pulled him away from the group.

“I’ll miss you Pez,” Louis said, hugging her.

“I’ll miss you too Lou. You made me think about a lot of things. Helping you two have your happy ending was cathartic, I think.”

“Do you know what you want to do yet?” Louis asked, “You gonna try and win him back?”

Perrie shrugged, “I’m not sure but I’m going to tell Jade, then the rest of my family. Got to own up to my mistakes, you know?” And Louis knew only too well. He hugged her again and kissed her on the cheek. It was hard seeing her go but he planned to call her up for a drink soon after they got settled back into their own lives. Louis sensed she was someone good to have around to be the reality check he sometimes needed, and he hoped he could be that kind of friend for her too.

Louis wandered off to the bar, in desperate need of a drink. He was still in a haze of joy, embarrassment, surprise and gratitude for his friends. Harry was perched on a stool chatting to Niall.

“Ni! You’re here!”

“TOMMO!” Niall boomed. “YOU WON!” He lunged at Louis, drawing him into a massive hug, slapping him on the back ecstatically. “I knew you bloody would! What did I tell you!”

Louis hugged him back warmly. Niall had felt like the one constant these past few months, the one person who had no ulterior motives, besides being on his side. He couldn’t have made it through without Niall, he was sure.

“What are you two gossiping about over here!”

“Just how you two morons actually won the whole damn thing. If I’d known how easy it was, maybe I would have thrown my hat in the ring!” He cackled, “Nah, just kidding, I always knew you two would kill it. Hey, I should get a finder’s fee, I put the dream team together after all! Shall we say ten per cent?”

“I owe it all to you, Ni.” Harry wrapped his huge arms around him.

“I told you he’d come good,” Niall muttered softly in Harry’s massive embrace.

Louis felt the twinge of a familiar sensation. “Hang on, what’s going on here.”

Niall and Harry looked like butter wouldn’t melt in their mouths.

“Well…” Niall started. “I might have left a few things out when I suggested you and Harry apply together.” He looked up at Louis with doe eyes.

“You remember when I told you why I applied, Lou?” Harry piped up. Louis nodded.

Harry continued, “Well it’s… _possible_… that Ni here knew about my little crush?” Harry smiled sweetly.

It took Louis a few seconds to catch up. But when he did–

“You knew about this _the whole time_?!” He screamed at Niall, eyes bugging out of his head. “You suggested we do this together _knowing_ he had a thing for me?!” He looked between Harry and Niall. “You two _planned_ this?”

Niall shrugged and smiled apologetically. “Not like I had any love life to speak of, so thought I’d play cupid in yours. You two aren’t the only ones who are allowed a project! Ha! Anyway, worked out pretty well, didn’t it! To be honest, I’m quite proud of myself!”

Despite his disbelief, Louis couldn’t disagree.

That night, snuggled up with Harry at his and Niall’s, one final thing was on Louis’ mind.

“But I was such a dick, you must have wished you’d never gone anywhere near me. Why did you stick with me?” Harry had told him to forgive himself for how he acted towards him and Louis mostly had but he would never forget it.

“Niall.” Harry answered simply, “He told me you’d come around. He didn’t guarantee you’d fall in love with me of course, and like I said, I would have been fine us just being friends, but he had a gut feeling and I trusted him. That’s something you and I had in common from the beginning.”

Louis’ heart swelled with gratitude for his friend; Niall, who knew him better than he knew himself.

“That night you asked if I wanted to pack it in? If you were into me, and Niall promised you I was worth a chance, why did you risk it all?”

Harry smiled wickedly, biting at his lip, “I was bluffing. I knew you’d never quit. I didn’t need Niall’s help to work that out.”

“And here I was assuming Niall was my ride or die and you were just this annoying but charming giant who loved cushions,” Louis threw his hands into the air, exasperated, wondering if Harry had always been this much cleverer and craftier than him and he’d just been too dense to notice, a blockhead in every sense of the word.

Harry grinned again, “Well you know what they say about assuming…” And then Louis knew for sure, after all, he’d been making an ass of himself since the first moment he and Harry had met.

“Anyway,” Harry continued, “I can be an annoying, charming giant who loves cushions _and_ be the guy who loves you.”

Harry pulled him close, resting his chin on Louis’ head, just like the very first time they’d met. So much had changed since then and they’d accomplished so much together, so much more than they would have done apart. And Louis felt lucky then, knowing he’d not just built The Block with Harry, they’d built the foundation for a solid relationship, no matter what happened after.

“So,” Louis smiled, rubbing his hands together gleefully, “what shall we work on next?”

EPILOGUE

“Louis, you didn’t! You promised me!” Harry sounded horrified but the massive smile he hid behind his hand betrayed him.

“I couldn’t help myself. And I lodged the registration paperwork with this name too so its too late to change,” Louis replied, unapologetic.

“Classic Tommo, really,” Niall shrugged, laughing. Despite how much he’d improved with Harry, Louis would always carry the tendency to unilaterally make decisions and damn everybody else. Thankfully, most of the hairbrained ideas he pursued were harmless, or at least well‑intended. This one though, was big.

“It’s my truck, I can put whatever I want on it!” Louis replied petulantly, hands on hips.

When Harry and Louis had decided to go into business together following the show, they’d not worried about how they’d work together, what projects they’d choose, whether they’d argue. They knew they would disagree, they knew things would be heated, but they also knew anything could be resolved as long as they remembered to look after one another.

However, of all things, they’d simply not been able to agree on what to _call_ their business. They’d floated various longwinded double-barrelled options (Styles-Tomlinson Designs, Tomlinson-Styles Projects), and other clunky portmanteaus (“Stylinson? That sounds idiotic,” Louis had complained) but nothing had felt right. Harry had even insisted they just go with Tomlinson Projects like Louis had decided long ago but Louis had been ambivalent; it didn’t _feel_ right.

Now, with their company’s sleek branding emblazoned on Louis’ beloved Colorado, Louis knew he’d made the right choice, and Harry’s joyful tears seemed to indicate he agreed. Jeez, Louis thought lovingly, Harry always knew how to make a simple moment seem like it was a massive deal, although, Louis reasoned, in this case he was kind of right. It did feel special. It wasn’t _exactly_ what he’d envisioned when he’d imagined his future, back before the show, before Harry, but now, it felt like what he’d wanted all along.

_Tomlinson Styles_, the truck read.

Louis shrugged, “I just thought it covered everything we wanted to say about who we are, and what we do,” Louis said simply. “Now,” he clapped his hands together, “do you boys want a ride?”

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> I am also on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/bitter-leaf), come say hi if you like.


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